Office of Mercy (9781101606100) (5 page)

By this time, we should remind ourselves, any hope of reviving the Yang political system had gone. And the peaceful society of shared prosperity and shared labor that the Yangs had imagined was irrevocably out of reach. Without communication, without basic infrastructure, the transformations in societal organization could not occur, and everyone felt it. Chaos, fear, and suffering reigned, and the law of violence and strength took over as it had not since pre-Modern times. The Yang members refused to acknowledge their own defeat, a failure which only worsened the already immense suffering of that time and delayed its relief. But change did come, despite the terrible odds against it. Change arrived as an act of will, from people who could not stand by any longer.

For when the bunkers that housed the Yang political leaders—as well as the power that was synonymous with those bunkers—at last fell into the hands of their natural children, we knew better than to repeat the mistakes of our natural parents. We converted these bunkers into settlements, sealing ourselves off from the death outside. Within this self-destructing world, only your Alphas harbored any positive plans for the future. Only your Alphas did not partake in this terrible march toward extinction. Only your Alphas asked instead: How can we start over? How can we live better than the way we are living now?

The heaviness in Natasha's chest gave way a bit. She had always found the Alphas' tone in this section jarringly and almost humorously self-aggrandizing. They gave scant information about the Yang political group, and yet still managed for several pages to assert their superiority over their predecessors. (On page 284, for example, the Alphas dismissed the Yangs as “fumbling moral philosophers, who, if they were to spot a venomous spider perched on the shoulder of their dearest friend, would not know which creature to save.”) Granted, the Alphas had good reason to feel proud. The members of the Yang party had all died around the time of the Storm, back in Year 0 (the current date in the settlements was Year 305), while the Alphas, who were in many cases the biological children of leading Yang members, had preserved themselves through those dangerous times and, subsequently, had kept themselves alive century after century with the bioreplacement programs of their own invention. The Alphas had also remained overseers of the old Yang bunkers, rescuing the structures from decay and transforming them into the brilliant homes they all lived in today.

A click came from high over the foot of Natasha's bed: the circular light above the door was glowing weakly, the first phase in five of the underground dawn. By 0700, it would be shining across the full solar spectrum brightly enough to illuminate every nook and cranny in the room, and with a high-intensity spike at 297 nanometers, enough to warm the flesh and activate a morning burst of vitamin D in the system. Natasha replaced the Ethical Code to its spot in the drawer and crawled out from under her blanket. From the basket beneath her bed she fetched her robe and pulled it snugly over her nightclothes. She tore off her socks, tossing them onto the bed, and slipped her feet into a pair of rubber leisure shoes.

The hall was empty, as she'd expected, and only one of the ten stalls in the women's shower room was in use. A warm white steam hung in the air, and the hot damp smell carried with it just a tinge of lavender shampoo. Natasha pushed open the creaky cedar door to the changing stall, and closed the latch behind her. She removed her robe and nightclothes and hung them neatly on the metal hooks. Then she stepped behind the curtain and gave the water some seconds to heat up before moving under it, her chestnut brown hair darkening a shade and becoming wet and heavy on her back.

As she washed—the pounding warmth relaxing her muscles and sliding down the length of her body—Natasha was careful to keep her lips tightly closed. The water, which came from underground streams and rainwater gathered on the roof, was treated and purified of course, though not with the same attention as the water that went to the kitchens. She turned her face to the spigot and scrubbed her cheeks, nose, and forehead with rapid motions, at last feeling fully awake.

After Natasha had wrapped herself in her robe again, she left the changing room, expecting to find the shower room empty. The sight of a second reflection in the mirror took her slightly by surprise: the intelligent eyes and black bangs that made a severe line across the forehead, a perfect and striking contrast to the pale, oval face beneath. It was Claudia Kim, the Gamma who worked at the adjacent back cubicle in the Office of Mercy—and one of the last people Natasha felt like seeing right now.

“Oh,” said Natasha, “I didn't realize there was still someone here.”

Claudia sniffed; she laid her hairbrush aside, meeting Natasha's gaze in the foggy reflection.

“What did you expect, Alpha treatment? Are we supposed to defer to you, give you privacy?”

“I'm sorry—what?”

Claudia turned to face her.

“Look, we all know that Jeffrey adores you. He'd probably drain his arteries into your bloodstorage banks if you asked him to. But you should know that whatever special advantages he's managed to wrangle for you, you haven't earned them. You're a rookie. Your record is average. You've done nothing to distinguish yourself among your peers. If it was up to me, you never would have been permitted—” Claudia stopped and shook her head, too full of loathing to continue.

Been permitted into the Office of Mercy
, Natasha was sure she had wanted to say.

As far as Natasha knew, she and Claudia were not enemies, exactly, but the older woman had made it obvious early on in Natasha's career that she did not care much for Natasha at all. In general, Natasha tried to ignore it. From what she could tell, Claudia didn't like anyone who was close with Jeffrey—and so, logically speaking, there hadn't been any reason for Natasha to take Claudia's feelings too much to heart. It still hurt Natasha's confidence, though, and on some days made her more nervous and unhappy at work than she would have been otherwise. But what could Natasha do about that? As for the nature of the
original
antagonism, the one between Jeffrey and Claudia, Natasha had virtually no understanding of it at all. Both Jeffrey and Claudia were Gammas; they had a history within their own generation that was beyond Natasha's awareness and general interest. It was not strange that it should be like that. Each generation contained its own nuances of relationships and hierarchies and rivalries that remained largely invisible to those outside—and especially to those farthest removed by age. The Gamma generation had eleven and a half years on the Deltas, and a full nineteen years on the Epsilons.

“I don't know what special advantages you're talking about,” said Natasha, growing more curious by the second to know the cause of Claudia's anger. “Unless you mean tracking a poor, suffering Tribe man for five hours and watching him die.”

“Check your mail then.” Claudia sneered. “I hope you'll be satisfied.”

Natasha stood rooted in place as the shower room door banged shut. Could this mean what she thought it meant? Had Jeffrey done it? Had he actually done this for her? The Alphas held him in such high esteem, and if he had fought for her, he may have been able to get her through. Her body, damp and steaming from the heat, tingled with excitement. Out of love, he would have made it happen, a quieter voice within her said, because Jeffrey understood her, because her happiness brought him happiness too. Several seconds had passed now, enough to ensure that Claudia would be gone from the hall, and Natasha burst out of the shower room and rushed to her sleeproom, the tie of her robe dragging behind her and her feet sloshing in her shoes.

Min-he was dressed for work; she was hurriedly making her bed and stuffing papers into a file.

“There you are,” said Min-he. “I didn't think you'd gone up to the Dome already. You missed Eric. He came around looking for you.”

“Did he seem upset?”

“Actually, he seemed kind of giddy. Smug too, but that's just Eric.”

“You didn't see a message come in for me, did you?”

“I hadn't noticed—”

But at that moment, Natasha's wallcomputer began to flash blue. Only once had it done that before: when Natasha had received her assignment in the Office of Mercy.

“Natasha,” Min-he whispered, her eyes widening with alarm. “A personal message from the Alphas.”

“I know.” Natasha quickly entered her password. The text filled the screen, overriding the usual arrangement of icons. Min-he rushed to her side, reading over her shoulder.

Natasha Wiley,

You have been selected to serve as one of the six members of the Crane Recovery team. The object of your mission is to (1) ensure the cleanliness and efficiency of the Crane sweep, (2) replace the sensors destroyed by the blast, and (3) document the site of the sweep for the Archives. As you know, a Recovery team would usually deploy within a week of the sweep. However, given the presence of the Pine Tribe in the field, this is impossible. The team will therefore await deployment until after the Pines have left the area, either by the Tribe's own volition or, we hope, by the force of a sweep.

Beginning tomorrow morning, you will stop your regular shifts in the Office of Mercy and report instead to Pod G11 in the Pretends for group training, both morning and afternoon-shifts.

The members of the team are: Jeffrey Montague, Office of Mercy; Eric Johansson, Office of Mercy; Natasha Wiley, Office of Mercy; Alejandra Rodriguez, Extra-Settlement Engineering; Nolan al-Rashid, Extra-Settlement Engineering; and Douglas Truman, Office of Land and Water Management.

Eternally Yours, Alphas/deptofgov

“I'm going Outside,” said Natasha.

“I can't believe it,” said Min-he. “You and Eric too. You're only Epsilons.”

“I wonder if it posted to the maincomputer yet.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Natasha had just pinched the last fastening of her shirt when a knock thudded at the door.

“Finally!” Eric said, with a grin that threatened to leap from his face. “You saw the message then? Alpha believe it, I don't regret the day we got assigned to Jeffrey's team. Poor Yasmine, though, she always seems to get the short end of the deal. It's her fault, I think. She doesn't show the same dedication as you and me. Remember the time Jeffrey caught her playing Monkey-Go-Huntin' during the nightshift?”

“So I guess we're friends again,” Natasha said. She laughed, genuinely happy that she and Eric had made the team together, and not only because it meant that she was spared his indignation.

“When weren't we friends?” Eric asked. “Come on, I think I hear the elephant. They're going to post upstairs any minute.”

A small crowd had gathered in the Dome, drawn there by the rumor of an Alpha announcement. “I hear they're upping the meat serving to three times a week,” Maria Chávez was telling a suspicious-looking Tom Doncaster, who headed the Farms. A huddled group of doctors were shooting meaningful looks at one another, as if they suspected the announcement indubitably had to do with their Department. The clock switched to 0730 and the morning bulletins came up on the screen. For a moment it was quiet while the citizens read an abbreviated version of what had appeared on Natasha's wallcomputer—and then Natasha and Eric were being jostled from every direction; a swarm of their fellow Epsilons having converged upon them.

“It's about time they gave us important assignments!” someone was saying near Natasha's ear.

“Not the babies anymore, are we? What with the Zetas coming—”

“You deserve it,” said Min-he, her round, friendly face flushed with excitement. She squeezed Natasha's arm, and Natasha gave her a grateful smile.

The anxious and jubilant faces parted to let someone through: Jeffrey. He looked both happy and complacent and Natasha beamed at him. He was the one to thank for all of this. For one wild moment, Natasha imagined taking a running step forward and throwing herself into his arms and telling him, really telling him, how it meant everything to her that he had brought this dream to life.

“Good luck,” Jeffrey said, shaking Eric's hand first. “The Alphas are behind you.”

“Thanks, Jeffrey,” Eric said. “Thanks a lot.”

Jeffrey turned next to Natasha. He took her hand and she stepped as close to him as she dared, with so many people watching. As their touch loosened, though, Natasha noticed that his smile was a little strained.

“Don't tell me you regret this,” she said quietly. “It's too late for that.”

“Not at all, not at all. Who am I to argue with the choice of our superiors? You should be proud of yourself, Natasha,” he added in a more serious tone. “The Alphas do not take these matters lightly, and neither do I. You would not be on this mission if anyone doubted your potential in the field.”

“I don't know, I bet I can name a few,” said Eric, nudging Natasha in the ribs.

Natasha looked, expecting to see Claudia Kim. But instead, she followed Eric's gaze to a tight group of Deltas standing to the side of the elephant doors. At the center of the group was Raj Radhakrishnan, a lean man with deeply set eyes and caramel skin so smooth that it seemed untouched by bioreplacement. Natasha had never spoken to Raj in any meaningful way, but she did know a little about him. Raj had served as Min-he's director in the Archives until the Alphas had abruptly transferred him to level nine—to the Electricity and Piping crews. His name came up now and then in the Office of Mercy, though never in a very friendly light. Raj was one of the only citizens in America-Five who openly objected to the existence of sweeps. Natasha did not know the details of his views, only that he had called for the abolition of the Office of Mercy on several occasions. She had heard similar rumors about the Delta men and women surrounding him now, though nothing so extreme. From across the room, Natasha picked out their faces: Mercedes Laplace, Eduardo Castilla, Benjamin Rook, and Sarah O'Keefe. She thought that Mercedes and Sarah both worked in Health. Eduardo's winning smile she recognized from one of the current construction teams, and also from when he'd had a long-standing romantic relationship with her favorite childhood doctor, a man named Malcolm Finn. Ben Rook was a nervous, small-boned man who tended the beehives and vegetable gardens in the Department of Agriculture, and who rarely spoke more than five words together. He and Sarah were a couple, Natasha did know that for sure, one of the eccentric few who had a sleeproom together.