Survivors, p.36
Survivors, page 36
“They don’t, not here. But they do have coffee, for special occasions, small crops grown down on the mainland, south. I think this counts as a special occasion.”
“Lead on, assistant.” Miya smiled. “We’ve got a lot to talk about. All of us.”
Hank blinked. “Administrator? Of the planet?”
Miya nodded. “Deputy Administrator, first day, first hour on the job. Let’s go eat, Hank. I’m starving. First order of business is food.”
EBO - Day 12 - Step by Step
“Did you need help walking?” Hank extended his hand to Katriana.
She smiled and shook her head. “I’m okay. Thanks, Hank.”
Hank lowered his arm. “We’re here for you, Kat.”
Katriana patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Hank.”
The five of them walked out from the corridor onto the top landing of the spiral staircase to find the dining hall echoing with soft voices, drifting up from below. Miya walked over to the glass and peered down. The room was filled with hundreds of people, far too many to sit at all the tables at once.
Miya stepped back, but a gentle hand pushed her forward.
“They’re waiting,” Katriana whispered in Miya’s ear.
“Waiting for what?” Miya whispered back. Everyone was standing, talking to their neighbours. Then one person looked up, then another and another. Fingers pointed, elbows nudged neighbours. More eyes looked up in their direction until the whole room was staring up at Miya in silence.
She flashed back to Selection, when the camera drones had hovered over her, bright lights shining, when they’d announced she was the newest Searcher, one of the very few each year. She’d had a full-on panic attack, passed out, and ended up in hospital. She tried to step back, but Katriana’s hand was firm against her back.
“You’re not going to push me over, are you?”
The pressure lessened, just a little. “Don’t give me any ideas. No. But they’re waiting. And I’m actually hungry, for real, despite having had breakfast. Post-death munchies. Food’s down there, I need it, or maybe your brain. I could go full zombie. But I’m happy with the regular mush, too. Just take it one step at a time, one foot in front of the other.”
Miya smiled shyly down at the crowd, then turned and walked over to the first step, a hand on the metal railing mounted in the glass. She put her right foot down on the first step. A single clap echoed through the atrium. She froze.
“No.”
Kat’s hand remained behind her, firm but gentle. “It’s alright. Every new Administrator gets the same welcome. Traditions are important, too. Symbolism.”
“Oh,” said Miya, and took the next step. One more pair of hands joined the first, and then a third, and a fourth, and soon she lost track of how many people clapped with each step, just that it got louder and louder. She paused at the first off-set step, double the width of the others, and the clapping paused, too. She took the step, and there was a quick double-clap.
Miya glanced over her shoulder. “Huh. So that’s what it’s for.”
Katriana nodded, and Miya slowly walked down the spiral staircase. Pause for the landing, then the clapping resumed. Another off-set step and a double clap. When she took the last step onto the main floor, the step-clapping turned into chaotic applause. Miya smiled nervously at the faces smiling back at her. After a minute or so, the clapping faded away, and people moved aside, clearing the path through the path of shame, the path of celebration. Miya slowly led the way, Kat’s hand no longer at her back. She smiled and shook hands where they were offered. People stepped back for other hands to take their place. But they didn’t crowd her. The path was clear, right through to the serving area. People shook Sam’s, Hank’s and Thomas’s hands behind her, and some shook Katriana’s, too.
It took them nearly an hour to make their way to the serving line, but there wasn’t anyone else in line, just the neatly stacked trays, and wisps of steam rising from several food warmers full of food. Miya walked along the serving line, and staff with smiling faces put food onto her tray with a soft “Ma’am”.
Miya stood by their corner table and waited for the rest of her friends to arrive from the serving line before she set down her tray and slid onto the bench. The people standing next to them smiled, nodded, then turned away. The room gradually emptied, leaving the five friends to eat their second breakfast, each of them with a mug filled with a dark brown liquid.
Katriana sipped from her mug and smiled. “Ahh. Now this is coffee. Wonderful stuff.”
Sam sniffed it, took a sip, and made a face. “If you say so.”
Katriana grinned. “It’s an acquired taste.”
Miya popped some mush into her mouth. “Well, I like it. Better than the stuff on the Ark.”
“That’s because this is the real thing.” Katriana raised her mug. “Grown, natural, dried and roasted right here. But just a little, like I said. There are much bigger priorities. Gives you something to look forward to, though.”
“That it does.” Thomas nodded. “Very good coffee.”
“It’s okay.” Hank sipped at his cup, his plate now empty despite his earlier comments about being full. “But I think I prefer Sam’s fir needle tea. I got used to it.”
Sam grinned. “Some day, Hank. Some day.”
Miya glanced back over her shoulder at the now-empty room. “So all of those people were waiting for me?”
Katriana nodded. “Yes. The announcement went out as soon as you accepted the role. But before that, they knew nothing.”
“Oh,” said Miya.
Katriana motioned with her mug. “I think, Deputy Administrator, it’s time to have your first official meeting. You know.”
Miya nodded, then looked solemnly at Thomas, Hank, and Sam. “I was wondering.”
“Wondering what?” asked Thomas.
“If you three would like a job.”
The men exchanged glances.
“What kind of job?” asked Hank.
“You are being offered the roles of advisors to the Deputy Administrator,” Katriana said in a formal tone.
Sam blinked. “Advisor. Like telling you what we think, and ideas, and stuff?”
Miya nodded. “Yes.”
“And telling her off when she gets too big for her britches.” Katriana’s eyes twinkled. “To keep her balanced.”
Hank smiled. “So we get to tell the boss what to do?”
Katriana shook her head. “Advise. She still decides. But she needs to listen and consider what’s being said. And she’ll need more advisors, in due course. As a squid, she gets three. You three, if you’re willing. I already signed up. Personal assistant.”
Sam grinned. “So I get to tell you what I think, and I get to tell you off?”
Miya nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”
Thomas nodded. “Then sign me up. The alpha needs … reigning in from time to time, anyway.”
Sam and Hank both did a thumbs-up and nodded.
“Oh, she’s not an alpha.” Katriana shook her head. “At least, I hope not. We would be very disappointed if that’s what she turns out to be. Alphas, stereotypically, tend to be a bullying type, physical dominance, mind games. But I think, no, I know that Miya has the potential to be a good leader, capital L, one day, maybe even a great one. But it’s baby steps along the way. Squid, dory, whatever comes next. And then, some day, Octopus. Or maybe it’s Poseidon.”
“I’m fine with taking it slow, and learning, and listening,” said Miya. “With my advisors at my side to tell me off when needed. And to tell me what they think.”
“Very good.” Katriana nodded. “But we’re also in a hurry. Tick-tock, thirteen arks, Miya. We need to make a home down here that’s safe for us, and the species we bring back from the dead. Like me, more symbolism, if you like. But the Earth doesn’t have nine lives, or even eight. We’re working on number two, and it’s currently on life support. Fragile. Like I was.”
“Wait.” Miya turned towards Katriana. “Ten minutes, you said. To catch your breath. You were still struggling this morning, even after the doctor gave you that stuff. But there were times you seemed just fine, even before that.”
Katriana shrugged. “Cumulative effects, lapses.”
Miya scowled. “That you seem to be able to turn on and off like a switch, Kat. It was subtle, but I caught on just now. That firm hand when I was trying to back-pedal at the top of the stairs was a little too firm, Kat.”
Katriana’s eyes twinkled. “Guilty as charged.”
Miya frowned. “So, did you actually recover in ten minutes, not just catch your breath? Or did recovery take longer? Tell me, right now. That’s an order.”
Katriana drained the last of her coffee. “That was good. No more for a while. Pity. And it wasn’t ten minutes. It took longer. Eleven minutes and twenty-three seconds. Then I was okay. It was an easy death, so the actual tissue damage was minimal. I loaded up on nano-biotics in the morning, just in case. But eleven minutes and twenty-three seconds later, I was fully recovered. My easiest death and recovery yet, but unfortunately also my last spare death.”
“But the doctor gave you stuff last night.”
“It was a strong sedative, and a nano-biotic top-up, again, just in case. My first actual sleep in a long time. It was blissful, but scary, like another death. Normally I’m partly aware, but not last night. You protected me, Miya. You could have rejected me in anger for playing that party trick on you, but you didn’t. You slept with your arm around me instead.”
“You said you weren’t aware.”
“Arm around me when I drifted off, and when I woke up. That’s all I remember.”
“You … you acted,” Miya growled. “I should hate you for that, but … hell, Kat. I did get up after you drifted off. I paced around the bed, watching you from every angle, making sure you were still breathing. I nearly peed myself from waiting too long to go. You could have told me what salt water does to you. But I went to the toilet and panicked every second you were out of my sight. Then I came back to you, slid back into bed and held you close until morning, and I think I slept. Maybe.”
“You were a pretty good actor, Kat.” Hank shook his head. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
“The recovery couldn’t be too quick, so I had to do that. I was told to. If I survived the death, that is.” Katriana smiled. “That part was acting, and apparently not very good. Everything else was real.”
“Five days, friends. They had to bring you back,” said Miya.
Katriana nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t actually know if they would, even then. I knew I was going to die, but it’s still a death, Miya, and that was terrifying for me. Worse, that I knew exactly when it was going to happen. They had my pleasure centre on constant drip-pulses for two days prior just to keep me from falling apart, even while I was still receiving residual punishment. They amped it up my last day, so I could enjoy it with all of you. Lots of dread and anxiety. Ten days on death row, Miya. Even though I knew there was a small possibility that I would live. I might have failed on some other criteria, even though you passed. Or maybe an eighth death might have been too much for the human body to come back from. All the other Oversight members have a limit of seven, and that’s based on long experience. That’s the normal maximum, to allow for an effective service life of about five to six years. I pushed that, burned through them faster, but they already I knew I was the type who pushes things before the surgery. The name was the clincher, though. Kat and her nine lives. But I might not have come back at all. I’m still a little shaky, but that’s partly because I didn’t expect the eighth time to work. But I used up my seven deaths far faster than the others tend to, so I’m still young, and there was a better than normal chance I might recover from the eighth. I did, and I’m glad. If it didn’t work, well, I’m sure it would have been a lovely funeral.”
“Fucking sick bastards,” Miya growled. “Maybe I should break their noses.”
Katriana smiled. “Too late. But if you want them to feel it, I’m afraid you’d have to break mine all over again.”
Miya shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“I lived.” Katriana smiled wistfully. “And I’m glad to be here for the next steps.”
“But you knew,” said Sam. “You knew you were going to die. You had to act like you might not. Acting.”
“No.” Katriana smiled at him. “As soon as you four finished your showers and walked into that empty room where you met me, I was told, for the first time, that I was going to die. No jump-start. Until then, I was just paying penance, fixing my mistakes, to get you here. Then I was going to retire. That wasn’t the kind of retirement I had expected.”
“That’s horrible!” said Hank.
Katriana gave him a grim smile. “No, that’s Oversight, and I used to be part of it. They were mad, and when a tool is used up, they discard it. And that’s the real reason I saw red and slapped Miya. I was already annoyed, galled, humiliated. And then they did that. So I slapped her. Plans changed all over the place, and then I had a stay of execution, with a possibility of coming back, being allowed to live and retire afterwards. But nothing was ever certain. I couldn’t act, not for any of that. You’d have seen through that in a minute. But Miya breaking my nose saved my life, literally.”
Miya shook her head. “You said you agreed to die. But they were already going to kill you, permanently or not.”
“Ah.” Katriana smiled. “No. I didn’t agree to die. That was a foregone conclusion. I agreed to live, for you, and stand by your side until I've taken my last breath. Or I could have chosen to let them not revive me. But I came back to life, for you. Nothing was ever certain. Not ever. Nothing could be faked. The stakes were too high. If you failed, Miya, well…” Katriana spread her arms. “Your father would be the only Administrator for a while, and there are currently no other candidates of any age, that might qualify. You’re it, for a generation, at least. Earned role, difficult as hell, might kill you, might not, but I think you can take it. Oversight is betting on you, big time. Please don’t fuck it up.”
“Wow.” Miya shook her head. “I’m still mad, though. Some at you. Most of it at them, for what they did to you, us. Completely unnecessary, and cruel.”
“No, it was entirely necessary, all of it. But yes, cruel, too. Symbolism, experience. The planet is significantly more fragile than I am, or was. But this is my last life, like the planet. And it’s going to take a lot longer than eleven and a half minutes for it to recover. We’ve been hard at work for centuries, and there’s still a long way to go. Original estimates were that we couldn’t start until the thousand year mark, but then the fertility rates began to plummet, and the percentage of babies brought to term with birth defects crept higher and higher. It’s a race against time. We’re in a hurry, break-neck pace. But we need to be careful.”
“Hurry it slow.” Sam nodded. “Hurry it slow.”
Thomas nodded. “Okay. There’s obviously … some stuff I don’t know about, and … thanks for the job. I accept … apparently we all do. But why us? Surely there are … more qualified people to advise Miya.”
Katriana smiled. “Baby steps, Tom. The aged experience will come along later. Right now, Miya has what she needs, including having people ready to tell her off when she’s acting up. That’s all three of you. Others might be intimidated at first, even though they’re older, because she’s a boss, and will be the boss, one day. But you all have something to bring to the table, so don’t think it’s just because you’re her friends. You trust each other. Sam is your philosopher, to give it a name. Thinker, and practical in the ways of survival, he was born here, knows things nobody else in this facility does. He brings a unique perspective, the voice of the Earth, if you will. Hank is stalwart, a good friend, grounded, but also the artist, visionary, the dreamer. We need vision, Miya, for what this place may still yet be, when the days are dark and everything is turning to shit all around you. That’s why I had to die, Miya, because you care. And things are going to fail. Creatures, ecosystems and people will die. Despite, or because of, your decisions. You’ll need everyone at this table, plus more. But this is the start, the core, the heart of Team Miya.”
Thomas coughed. “You forgot me. But then, I was … just average in … everything I ever did.”
Katriana touched his cheek. “No, I didn’t forget you. Best for last, if you like. You bring lots to the table. For goodness’ sake, Thomas, I told you that before I kicked your ass off the Ark to be eaten by cannibals. For which I am, and will continue to be, profoundly sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Katriana nodded. “You have good ideas. You’re a good teacher, honest and trustworthy. And people love you, Thomas, Devian that you are. Even Oversight, barely human as they were with all of their overwork, voted for you. They love you. And they kicked me off the ark when I did that to you. You’ve got depth upon depth, let’s leave it at that. Miya can see it, can’t you?”
Miya nodded. “Yep.”
Katriana winked. “At the very least, you make excellent breeding stock. My — our — baby first, to make up for the one lost, and possibly Sam’s, then Miya will have her own after that. But all of them will be smart, wonderful children.”
Miya laughed. “You don’t know that.”
Katriana pouted. “Well, they will be.”
“Okay, okay.” Miya smiled. “So, when do we go on the ship?”
“What ship? We’re leaving to go somewhere?” Hank’s voice rose. “What about Susan, Enrique, and our baby?”
New Horizons
The Deputy Administrator, her personal assistant and her three advisors hopped onto the back of a six-wheeled electric kart for the trip down to the sailing-ship, berthed in a bay several kilometres south of Earth Base One. Susan and Enrique, baby in arms, came to see them off. Katriana said that they could come, but they demurred.
“Susan said she gets seasick,” Hank grunted as he shuffled onto the tray of the kart. They were all facing backwards towards the small gathering of well-wishers. “But we’ll be in touch. I’ll get to see our baby as he grows up, over a screen, anyway. Until I’m back. Which is when, exactly?”
