Elites of Eden

  She gives a sad little shrug, like a mother chastising a wayward child. “When the subject becomes aware of the experiment, the experiment is over. You’re no longer of use to us, Pearl.”

  The Chief turns to me again. “The subtle brain manipulation we used on you and Pearl is delicate. It requires the finesse of our best surgeons and scientists, and the help of the EcoPan. But there is a much cruder form of brainwashing we used at first. Instead of creating a work of art like you, layering paint onto a person’s life to make a masterpiece, we can just wipe them clean. It’s a simple, brutal procedure. It leaves the basic functions. They remember how to walk, and talk, and feed themselves. But the personality is gone.” She grins at me. “Forever.”

  She goes back to Pearl and calls in the surgeons. “Luckily you still present some mystery to us, Rowan,” she calls across the room. “You have information we will find useful, like the identity of whatever surgeon undid all my lovely work. And you present unique challenges. Your mind has been meddled with so many times, so intensively, yet you can still function apparently normally with both personalities intact. That will take some studying. Oh yes, Rowan, there’s lots of fun to be had with you before you join your friend!”

  She strokes Pearl’s cheek. “Goodbye, Pearl.”

  Pearl and I both scream as the surgeon goes to work. After a moment though, Pearl’s screams stop. It’s a quick procedure. For a moment I can see Pearl’s wild eyes, begging me to help. Then . . . she’s gone. She’s still the same beautiful, battered girl, physically. But I see the moment the light of her personality fades from her eyes. The part that makes her her.

  She smiles at me and blinks heavily. “Where am I?” she asks with the fearless innocence of a person with no past, and no future.

  THERE’S NOTHING I can do for Pearl. There’s nothing I can do for myself.

  I remember once hearing the phrase “ignorance is bliss.” I didn’t really understand that before now, didn’t believe it. But now I think of all the other times I must have been strapped down to a table, when I had no idea that anything bad was happening to me. Those times in the sensory deprivation room when subtle messages were being implanted in my brain. The days when I ran to the woman I thought was my mother, for comfort. I was a prisoner who didn’t know she was in prison. I was an unaware experiment. I was happy.

  No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t anything, because I wasn’t me.

  Fear is the price I have to pay for knowledge. Death is the risk I take for being truly alive.

  Oh, but I know now there are things so much worse than death.

  I try to catch Pearl’s eye as I’m wheeled out on the table, but all I can see is a placid blank-slate stare. Then I’m being pushed down a long corridor. One side has shining metal doors. The doors on the other side are all glass. They’re cells. I crane my head as far to the side as I can and try to see in as we speed by.

  There are people I don’t recognize. Then . . . an old man I met once or twice in the Underground. He’s shuffling in his tiny, bare cell, his back a little hunched. What will they do to him?

  There are more now. I get blurry images of people I know from the Underground. A long row of second children, captured and helpless, laid bare for any of the Center’s experiments.

  And then, most horrible of all, I catch a glimpse of Rainbow. Alone in a cold cell, she’s standing defiantly in the center of the room, right by the door, her hands clenched in little fists. Her face is slick with tears, but she has a fearsome scowl on her face as she shouts, defying the world.

  “Rainbow!” I shriek, but the glass is soundproof, and neither of us can hear the other.

  No, no, no, not Rainbow. Not the children! What kind of sick person would do experiments on little children?

  We pass more second children: little ones, old people, families lined up, separated in their own cells. I try to count. Dozens. A hundred at least down this seemingly endless corridor. All new test subjects for the Chief’s twisted experiments in mind control.

  But I don’t see Lachlan. Or Ash. Could they have possibly escaped?

  I make myself think the worst, to protect myself from the cruelty of hope. If they’re not here, they’re probably dead.

  If they’re not here, they’re probably the lucky ones.

  Then the gurney slows, and I catch a malicious smile on the Chief’s face. “I think she might be a friend of yours.”

  There, sitting on a chair in the middle of an otherwise empty cell, is a girl with long lilac hair.

  “Lark!” I yell, jerking at my bonds so violently that the rolling table pitches and almost tips over. The orderlies pushing me grab at me like I actually have a chance of escaping.

  No, I tell myself. It’s a trick. They’re already in my mind and making me see things that aren’t there.

  “You can’t fool me,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. Struggling to keep hope at bay. “I saw her die. This isn’t real.”

  The Chief looks at me with sick amusement. “What did you really see?” she asks. “You saw her swallowed by nanosand, that’s all.” She laughs, and the sound echoes through the long hallway.

  “Nanosand eats people,” I insist bleakly. “There’s nothing left of her now.”

  “Or, perhaps, that’s what we tell people. Carnivorous sentient sand that consumes even the bones, leaving nothing even for the grieving family? That’s a pretty frightening story, isn’t it? Perfect for keeping curious citizens from exploring the desert.”

  She leans closer and whispers in my ear. “Oh Rowan, haven’t you realized by now that Eden only survives because we control what people think, and even what they see? The EcoPan began it, using the lenses to make people not see the obvious. It is amazing how easy it is to make people not notice something. Even something as huge as a looming forest of bean trees, no? But most manipulation is much more simple. The power of a story, Rowan. Spread a rumor, and before you know it, it becomes truth.”

  “You mean the nanosand doesn’t kill?”

  “The desert will kill quick enough,” she says. “The nanosand is actually a rescue system. Thinking colonies of nanobots that rescue anyone foolish enough to go into the desert. But . . . you can’t just spit out survivors and leave them to tell their tales. They get sucked into an underground holding cell, with food and water and nice cool air, and then they wait until we pick them up. Oh, we don’t get very many, but I must say the ones we collect make very interesting test subjects. We know they are bold people with strong wills.” She chuckles again. “The very subjects that give us the greatest challenge. Like you. And, I believe, like your friend Lark.”

  “Don’t you touch her!” I shriek. “Lark! Lark! Look at me!” Her face is strangely blank. Has she been sedated . . . or erased?

  “Oh, the glass is one-way, and soundproof. She can neither see nor hear you. And what good would it do her? Do you want to torture her more by making her think about all the things we’re doing to the girl she loves? Oh yes, she told us that and a great deal more besides. Very cooperative. Not that we gave her much choice.”

  “Leave her alone! Don’t you dare—”

  She grabs my chin in a vise-like grip and makes me look at her. “You’re not in any position to threaten me, my girl. Oh, your Lark is going to be a very fascinating subject. Her epilepsy makes her brain unique. She’s the only person we’ve encountered so far who had lens implants at an early age but can still resist their programming. Do you know, every time she has an epileptic episode, her brain resets the EcoPan programming? She’s resisted us so well . . . so far. But we have all the time in the world, and I promise we will conquer that pretty little brain of hers yet!”

  The Chief is amused by my anger. I wish I could control it. I wish I didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me beg and squirm.

  “Please don’t hurt her,” I beseech her. Oh, great Earth, Lark is alive!
It gives me a surge of hope that even in the blackest hour there can be a light, however small. But now I don’t just have hope, I have one more thing the Center can crush, one more thing they can threaten to take away from me. I have to keep her safe, no matter what the cost. “I’ll do anything. I’ll let you do anything to my brain that you want.”

  “You silly, deluded child. Do you still think you have a choice? Do you really think you can resist me for long? You have a resilient brain, it is true. But our methods are getting better all the time. You’ll be Yarrow again before long, with no memory of Rowan. Or you’ll be someone else. Do you know what I think I’ll do with your friend Pearl? Haughty Pearl? I think I’ll make her an outer circle gutter rat. Poor, dirty, desperate. A girl who’s spent her life in rags, who lives in fear of everyone stronger than her. A victim. Yes, that would suit her.

  “And Lark” she goes on viciously. “What shall I make of her? So many possibilities. How nice it will be to crush that vibrant, independent mind. Turn that rebel into a good little follower. Maybe she can work for me! Maybe you both can; mindless little bots who do exactly what they’re told. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll even flip the switch that lets her love you again. That’s all love is, you know. Just a switch in the brain. Just a few chemicals.”

  “No, I’ll never believe it,” I insist. “We’re more than the electrical connections in our brains! You can’t do this to people!”

  She shrugs. “I have so far. Who’s going to stop me?”

  “I will!” I say, childishly, knowing how deluded that sounds. “I’ll find a way to make you pay for everything you’ve done. You’re evil!”

  She laughs softly, and I’ve never heard a more frightening sound. “Evil?” she asks gently, as if speaking to a small child. “You and the other second children are the ones draining the life out of Eden. You take our resources and contribute nothing. Little parasites scurrying under the city.” She leans close to me and whispers, “You believe you can think for yourselves and pick the rules that suit you? Civilization doesn’t work that way. Eden is my charge. Keeping humans alive is my responsibility. Without me, Eden would fall to selfish rebels like you and your friends who think that society can exist without sacrifice. The individual doesn’t matter. When I cleaned up the outer circle slums and erased the memories of poverty and crime from thousands of brains, did any of them complain? No, I took away the desperation and greed and selfishness and cruelty and stupidity that turned those circles into slums in the first place, and made those people safe, clean, productive members of society. I made this place a paradise!”

  She steps back, and says as if she believes it, “I’m a kind woman.” A smile plays around her lips for a moment before they harden into a tight, deadly line. “But I will kill or torture or test every second child I have if it helps me keep Eden safe and stable!”

  She’s just like Aaron Al-Baz. Her motives are noble, she believes she’s doing the right thing. She doesn’t realize that she’s destroying humanity to save humans. Compassion, kindness are the things that make us human. Sacrifice yourself for humanity, I want to tell her. Don’t sacrifice other people. But it wouldn’t do any good.

  They start pushing me down the endless corridor again.

  “There’s no need for all this,” I say at last. “I know your secret.” She stops dead, and the orderlies skitter to a halt a second later. I’ve touched a nerve. “I know all about the living world outside Eden.”

  One of the orderlies laughs, then stifles the sound. He’s not supposed to have an opinion. The Chief looks relieved. “A living world? You mean that fairy tale you’ve been telling people about life outside of Eden? A forest, with flowers and birds and deer? Oh yes, Lark told me that, too.”

  “I saw it! When I escaped from the Center and the earthquake disrupted the EcoPan’s illusions and . . .”

  She shakes her head dismissively. “A brain glitch. A dream.”

  “Did you give it to me?” I demand.

  “No, but . . .” A fleeting look of confusion crosses her face, then it smooths into serene certainty again. “Are you really that deluded? That’s just one more reason why people like you have to be controlled. If you spread that kind of nonsense throughout Eden, some people would be bound to believe it, and there would be civil unrest.”

  I can tell from her reaction that she really doesn’t know there’s a living world outside of Eden. I’d thought it was a Center conspiracy to keep the secret from the citizens of Eden for some reason. If that’s not the case, then what an amazing difference it would make to prove it to them! The Chief would change. Everyone would change! This need she thinks she has to control the residents of Eden would vanish. There are no limited supplies. There’s the whole world! People could have two children without penalty. Three children! As many as they wanted! The world would be ours.

  And then, thinking that, I shudder.

  The world was ours once. Look what we did with it.

  Someone is keeping the secret of the living world from us. If not her, then who?

  They take me to another surgical room. “You know the drill. Of course, you were programmed to have no memory of it afterward. Because of course our techniques are most unpleasant. But I presume when you got your memory back, that reappeared as well?” I nod. “Oh, good!” she says with spiteful glee. “The anticipation of torment is often even worse than actually going through it. After the trouble you’ve given me, Rowan, I’m glad you’ll be getting the full experience. You know, I think I’ll do the first part myself.” She orders the others out of the room. “I might decide to do something unconventional. Always better if there are no witnesses.”

  She’s the one who authorizes these terrible things to be done. What vindictive horror must she be planning for me if she doesn’t want her underlings to see?

  She picks up a wire, flexible along its length but rigid at the end, and with tortuous slowness brings it closer and closer to my eye.

  “THERE YOU ARE,” she snaps, jerking her hand away from my eye as someone comes through the door. “How unprofessional to be late for surgery.”

  “I’ve never missed one of this subject’s surgeries,” says a male voice. “I wouldn’t miss this one for the world.”

  I gasp. It’s my father.

  For just a second, I’m home again. I forget all the terrible things he’s done, and only remember the sixteen years when he was one of the three people I knew. Even before I knew the truth about him, we had an uncomfortable relationship. And yet, he symbolizes Mom, and Ash, and home. For an instant I feel secure, safe.

  Then I remember how he tried to kill me in the womb. How he caused Ash’s lung problems in the same botched prenatal assassination. How he turned in his own son just to protect himself. How he helped this evil woman operate on his own daughter.

  “Get prepped quickly,” my fake mother tells my real father. “She’s getting agitated, and I’d rather not have to sedate her. She needs to appreciate this experience fully—without anesthesia.”

  My father’s eyes flick over me. Does he even care that his daughter is strapped down, about to be tortured, changed, erased?

  “How could you do it to me?” I demand. He seems to wither, then collect himself. “You actually helped this horrible woman play with my brain, erase who I was? You’re a travesty of a father! I swear if I have one neuron of my memory left when this is over, I will hunt both of you down and kill you!” I scream at them.

  The Chief sets down the surgical wire and turns to me. “When this is over, believe me, there won’t be a single neuron in your brain that isn’t under my direct control.”

  My father is coming up behind her. He has one of the heavy surgical trays in his hands. To my astonishment, he swings it back, and smashes it across the back of her head. Then with supreme satisfaction I witness that horrid woman crash to the ground.

  Satisfaction . . . and baff
lement.

  Wait, did he get her out of the way so he can kill me? Finish the job he started when I was still in the womb? I tense, ready for anything . . .

  Except what happens. He flicks the switch that makes my shackles retract. I’m free.

  “I’ve sent the guards away, and cut the surveillance,” he says as he kneels at the Chief’s side and injects something into her neck. Her staring glassy eyes flutter and close. “I have a set of surgical scrubs and mask ready for you to disguise yourself. With a little luck you should be able to get out of here and—”

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, rubbing my raw wrists as I sit up. He starts to say something, but I know it is just going to be pathetic so I don’t even let him begin. “You think by saving me you can make up for the hell you put Ash and me through? You make me sick. You betrayed your children. It’s your fault that Ash was captured, and now he’s probably dead. And it’s . . .” My voice catches in a sob. “It’s your fault Mom died. You could have protected your family. Instead, you sacrificed us all so you could get ahead.”

  “It’s not like that, Rowan. I never thought . . .”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I snap at him. “You’re letting me go now? This means nothing! I’ll probably be captured within ten minutes. I won’t let you clear your conscience this easily. You helped the Chief take away everything I am!”

  “You have to understand, I had to do the surgery on you. I’m one of the few people qualified, and your chances of survival were much better if I was assisting. And I thought . . . at least some life is better than no life. You could be a first child, a citizen at last. I thought if you didn’t remember who you used to be, you’d be happy. I could erase everything that happened to Ash and your mom. Erase every unhappy moment our family has ever had.” He swallows hard. “I thought you were the lucky one. You got to forget. I have to remember what I did every day of my life. You have to get dressed, and hurry,” he continues. “I cleared a window for you, got all the guards called to different sectors, but you don’t have long.”