Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles, 1) - Softcover

CHAPTER ONE
 
 
Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
—CITIZEN’S SOCIAL CODE, VOLUME VI
My life is just about perfect.
Every morning Mother has the Maids wake me at precisely ten. Then it’s time for a light breakfast followed by a mandatory visit with my Therapist. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.
After, I am free to do as I wish until it’s time to perform one of the duties Mother has requested of me. This morning I sit in my garden, quietly doing my cross-stitching. The garden is so peaceful in the morning, especially when the sea life outside the glass dome passes by.
The Surface could never compare. Not that I’ve ever seen the Surface. It is forbidden, even for me.
Which is fine. My life is just about perfect.
The scent of roses, gardenias, lilies, and countless other flowers fill the air. Compared to the rest of the facility, the sunlamps make the air here feel sultry. Between that and the continual buzzing from the bees pollinating my lovely flowers, I often find myself falling asleep. The wind chimes my friend Timothy made for me tinkle in the current from the oxygen recyclers.
Timothy is from Sector Three. His father is a metal worker and his mother a child-care worker, but he’s been allowed residence in Sector Two because of his status as my favored Suitor. Due to his genetics he’s been chosen as a potential match for me. It will ensure only the best are born in Elysium.
Of the three Suitors chosen for me, I like him the best. He is the most understanding of my … eccentricities. A warm feeling tingles in my stomach and I press a hand to it and smile. Yes, Timothy is my favorite.
A butterfly flits in front of me, distracting me from my thoughts, and lands in the blueberry shrubs, which are filled with the white blossoms of spring. I love that spring has come, and with it longer days, and that summer is just a few months away. My garden will be even warmer and the lights will be on even longer, allowing more free time to play among my flowers.
Music plays in the background. A soft, enchanting number that relaxes the mind and spirit.
There are Guards stationed around the room, but they don’t bother me. They’re just a fact of life. The cost of peace.
With that thought, I decide to take a walk in my gardens. My fingers fiddle with the pleats in the skirt of my dress. I cross over the concrete paths that separate the plantings in wheel-spoke fashion, leading from a path that rings the outer wall of the garden to the pond, which is dead center.
My life is just about perfect.
I’m drawn to the roses—besides my violin, they are my most prized possession—as if their scent has literally pulled me to them. They remind me of something—a fragrance that rests at the far edge of my memory. It’s too elusive to remember, but not enough to forget completely. My fingers brush the rose pendant resting in the dent of my collarbone.
It is the one thing Mother has allowed me to keep from my childhood, before she adopted me and named me Daughter of the People. Though if she knew what I use the necklace for, I am fairly certain it would disappear.
I stare at the roses for another moment. I can’t resist—just a touch. It is what I walk these gardens for.
Mindful of the thorns, I pluck a rose from the bush and bring it to my nose. I inhale its heady scent and hope it, along with the pendant, will bring forth my memory.
The pendant to recover what is lost. The fragrances to fill the empty spaces.
A vision of a woman and a much younger version of myself forms in my mind.
My breath comes fast through my teeth as the pain starts to bloom in my brain—and then a sharp stab in my finger pulls me back into the present. I glance down to see blood welling on the tip of my forefinger. A rose lies on the ground a few centimeters from my feet. I stare at it, wondering how it ended up there.
“Evie,” Timothy says from beside me. When did he get here? “Are you all right? Here, let me help you.” He pulls a first-aid kit from one of the metal beams that frame the windows, separating my gardens from the Atlantic, and then bandages my finger. His grin lights up his face as he looks down at me.
“There you go. All set.” He pats my hand and I’m overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to yank my hand away, while the other part relishes the warm tingle of his hand softly melting into mine. The latter is a comfortable feeling—not new. Not as if it were the first time.
“Wouldn’t want you to get sick now,” he continues.
“No,” I say, trying to remember why his touch is so familiar. “Wouldn’t want that.” A breeze from the recyclers blows by and I catch a whiff of Timothy’s scent. Memories roll under a deep fog in my head, but nothing is clear. I can’t even remember what I’ve been doing. Wasn’t I … somewhere else?
“Are you all right?” he asks. His blue eyes fill with worry as he watches me.
I nod. “My life is just about perfect.”
He smiles, but there’s sadness in his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. I was worried”—he glances to the Guards—“you were sick or something, the way you were staring off into space.”
“How are your parents?” I ask, more from politeness than out of an actual interest. Although guilt tickles at me because I know I should care—that something changed between us, not too long ago, but I can’t remember what.
Timothy frowns. “I don’t know. They didn’t come for our traditional Sunday dinner yesterday and they haven’t been answering any of my messages, which is strange because Mom was waiting for me to tell her what your”—he stops with a glance to me, then sighs and continues—“how you’re doing. I plan on going over to Three today to check on them.”
“I see. Well, if you require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.” How nice of his mother to ask about me.
“I will. Thank you,” he says.
We both realize at the same moment that he is still touching me. My eyes meet his quickly, heat spreading from my toes to my face. This isn’t the first time, I think again. My heart beats furiously and I’m gasping for breath. Because touching him is impossible. I would remember if we touched. Unless …
I drop his hand quickly, and we jump apart from each other, glancing around to make sure we weren’t noticed. We are not Coupled, and skin-to-skin touching is strictly forbidden.
He glances around, as I had just done, but then to my surprise, he pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out. “I found this for you,” he whispers, leaning close.
I keep my hands where they are, but knit my brows together, trying to see what it is.
“It’s for your”—he glances around again—“collection.”
Immediately I get a buzz and shove my hand out, eagerly awaiting the possible Surface object. He drops a silver-colored metal disc into my palm. And I study it carefully. It has strange markings on it. A picture of a head on one side, and some kind of … creature on the back.
“‘In God We Trust,’” I read. I look up at Timothy. “What do you think it means?”
He shrugs, but I’m too excited to care. I’ve never seen anything like this before and I can’t wait to study it closer, but here’s not the place. I’ll have to ask Mother later. When Timothy isn’t around. Mother is indulgent of my curiosity about the Surface, but I doubt that tolerance would be extended to Timothy. I shove it into the pocket of my dress as Timothy bends to pick up the rose from the ground. Carefully he removes the thorns and hands it back.
“For you, Miss Evelyn.” His smile now is shy. My face still burns from the memory of his touch, and I lift the rose to my face to hide it.
The rose’s heady scent triggers some memory in the back of my mind. But before I can think on it further, Timothy wanders over to the small pond a few meters in front of us.
The blue glimmers under the lights like tiny diamonds floating on the glasslike surface. Unlike in Sector Four—the Agricultural Sector—this water is fresh instead of reclaimed, and pumped directly from the desalination tanks. It’s filled with lily pads and other water flowers.
I follow him. He points to a bluish flower with oval-shaped petals resting on top. “Will you tell me what this one is again?”
I smile. He always knows how to make me feel better. “It’s an Egyptian Lily. We use it in many of our medicines. It is used as a sedative, but it is also an aphrodisiac.”
The rose slips from my fingers.
*   *   *
Today is Request Day. I have many responsibilities as Daughter of the People, but this is my favorite one. It’s also the most important of my many duties. It shows Mother trusts me. I am the Citizens’ voice, and they look up to me to make sure they have everything they need and want.
Elysium is a family, and it’s important that the heads of that family listen to its members, so that all may be happy.
Mother allows me to host the requests wherever I like, but I prefer to use what I’ve called the Request Room. It’s fairly large with one wall-sized window in the back, and pink marble walls and ceiling. In the front are two doors. One is the door Citizens will enter from. The other is where they exit, unless they need to see Mother. In that case, they’ll use the door to the left of my chair—which is in the center of the room—to take them to Mother’s receiving room.
I settle myself into the chair, crossing my legs at the ankle, like Mother has taught me, before straightening my favorite silk skirt so it covers my knees. It’s a little short, but the blue brings out the color of my eyes, and Mother usually lets me get away with it.
I glance at the Citizens standing behind the velvet ropes before nodding to one of the two Guards next to me that I am ready to start. The line is short today, thank Mother. As much as I enjoy my duties, it can get quite overwhelming.
The first Citizen who steps forward is slightly older than my own sixteen years. He twists his hands together as he walks toward me, and there’s a slight shake to his legs when he kneels in front of me and bows his head.
When he only continues to kneel without looking up, I realize this is his first time here and he is nervous.
“Speak, Citizen. What is your request?”
He glances up, and while his hands still shake, his eyes aren’t as wide as they were before. “I wish to request a Coupling License, Miss Evelyn.”
My smile grows. This is why Request Day is my favorite. “And who is the lucky girl?”
He waves a hand and a girl my age rushes to his side. She’s careful not to touch him, but kneels next to him and bows her head. “I’m Alice, Miss Evelyn.”
I signal for the Guard to get me my Slate. “What is your current designation?”
“Child-care worker.”
I take the Slate from the Guard and place my hand over the glass screen, waiting for the computer to read my print and boot to the main screen. “So you’ve already been approved for breeding?”
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” she says, and then places her hand on the screen when I hold it out to her.
I take a few minutes to study her file and nod approvingly at what I read. She is an excellent candidate for breeding.
After verifying the man’s file, I approve them for coupling on a contingency basis, pending genetic testing, and send them to the Medical Sector. They have two weeks from today to complete the necessary testing before they’ll have to report to Mother—she has the final say on whether or not they’ll couple.
I can see they’re nervous, but from what I can tell from their records, they don’t need to worry. Mother should happily grant them their final approval.
The next few people pass through without incident, asking for the typical things: a request for Mother to visit a newborn child for her blessing. A larger stipend and quarters for the soon-to-be parents of twins. I make a note in Mother’s calendar to set up a celebration for when the children will be born. Twins are such a rare occurrence, I’m sure she’ll want to do something. There’s even a sweet request from the parents of a little girl who wants to see my gardens.
All will have to be approved by Mother, but I have no doubts she’ll approve. Especially the request from the little girl. Mother enjoys my humanitarian efforts.
But my mouth is dry from all the talking. I would really like to have a drink, but I still have Citizens to attend to. I know if I ask my Guard to get a drink for me, he’ll go, but it’s not exactly his job to get me a drink and it doesn’t feel right to ask him. I’ll just wait until I’m done.
When the sixth person in line approaches me, I smile and ask him what his request is. His hands tremble, but he bows his head and says in a shaky whisper, “I want to know what happened to my wife.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, sure I didn’t hear him correctly.
“I want to know what happened to my wife.” He looks up with bloodshot eyes. “She wasn’t home when I got back from working yesterday. I’ve looked for her everywhere.”
“Name?” I ask, my hand hovering over my slate.
“Renee Davis.”
I skim the Citizen Roster, confused. “Can you spell that for me?” I ask. He does, but my Slate still shows no one by that name. I purse my lips as he continues to watch me with pain and hope mingling in his eyes. “I can’t seem to locate anyone by that name,” I say.
From the corner of my eye, I see an Enforcer step out of the shadows, and I have to stop the shudder that threatens every time I see one. Like all Enforcers, she’s wearing the customary black dress with pleated skirt that stops just above her knee. The tops of her black boots are hidden underneath the skirt. Her black gloves go all the way to the middle of her biceps and she’s wearing a hooded cape that covers all other exposed areas of skin. I’ve always found it strange that Enforcers would wear dresses, but Mother believes that no matter their duties, ladies should dress like ladies.
The Enforcer pushes her hood back, revealing the blank face they’ve all perfected. She’s the one known as Veronica. All Enforcers make me nervous, but this one is the worst of them all.
I tense, my heart beating faster. I find myself wanting to run as far away from her as I can. And it’s not just me. The handful of Citizens still in line have stopped talking and fidgeting. They hold their collective breath and step farther away from me. It’s as silent as a tomb now.
However, the moment passes and the Enforcer makes no other move, staying silent and vigilant just this side of the shadows. The icy tension in the room will just have to be dealt with. The Citizens look to me as an example of how to behave, so I must swallow my unease. I take a deep, calming breath and force a smile.
“As I was saying”—I shoot one more glance at the Enforcer—“place your hand on my Slate. Perhaps there was some sort of bookkeeping mistake.”
He drags his gaze from the Enforcer, then nods and places his hand on the glass. When it beeps, I look at the information and frown. His file states that he is Single, never been Coupled. There had been a Courting Application filed late last year, but the woman in question, a Renee Davis, had died from unknown causes during the testing process. It’s a pity Mother’s genetic matching program still can’t prevent such anomalies from happening. This Renee was clearly too weak for breeding.
My heart breaks when I realize what’s happening. I wish Mother was here to help me, but she is not. I decide to break the news to him gently.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, “but, according to her file, she died last year. I’m very sorry for your loss.”