The Last Mate on Earth

Part 1 - Chapter 10

* * * Hope’s POV * * *

The next lesson is meditation. They have made a lesson plan for today to help me relax and distract me before meeting the next prospect. Their plan is working, I am feeling calmer already. They also changed the plan and I will meet two prospects tomorrow, giving me today to myself.

Of course, I am never by myself. There is always somebody watching me and then there are the cameras that are always recording. Still, the day passes by quickly and before I know it, bedtime is here. I fall asleep quickly and dream of the conversation I had with Hayden.

A meaty hand squeezes my shoulder, waking me. As I struggle to open my eyes, I am confused when they focus and I find Parent Hannah hovering above me. Her mouth stretches wide while her cheeks wrinkle into a smile, and her eyes convey the joy she feels. In my sleepy state she is like an angel, the overhead light hit her hair, illuminating the top of her head like a halo in the darkness.

Darkness.

This particular observation startled me as I looked past her to the sky outside. It’s pitch black, not the dawn I’m used to being greeted with. It’s nighttime.

Somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow. Tomorrow. Today … It’s almost time to meet the second Prospect. But not just yet. “Come on”, Parent Hannah whispers, waving an armful of clothes at me. I frowned, taking in the scene. My brain is slow to wake up.

“But the meeting?” I find myself mumbling.

“We will be back in time.”

“Are we going out?” I asked in surprise, waking up properly.

Parent Hannah smiles, confirming my conclusion.

I threw back the covers, immediately energized at this unexpected turn of events. It takes me only a few seconds to get dressed in the black top and leggings she has selected for me. I don’t wait for her to faff and fuss as she usually does. I reject our usual formalities. I am ready to go. As soon as I finish tying up the laces on my converse trainers, I turn to Parent Hannah with a nod, letting her know I’m ready.

She leads me to the walkway out of my bedroom, down the stairs, through the dimly lit gardens and to the lift. I’ve never been out here at this time. The place seemed eerily quiet without the other parents milling around and getting ahead with their daily tasks. The silence is almost deafening. I take a deep breath as the doors close on us and the lift drops. Down to the outside world.

“How?” I asked her.

“We felt you needed a pick me up, and director Phillip approved the use of the military vehicle for you to see the outside world and why we are doing this”, she smiles at me.

Something in my chest expands at the thought, my lips stretching into a smile that I try to suppress. The doors open on to the cold, grey parking bay – not quite outside in the elements, but it’s one step closer.

The head of security, Hedley, is standing to attention next to a black car. Its solid back door has been left open for us to climb inside. We do so willingly, longingly, expectantly. It’s always like this. I’m happy and content in the Dome, of course I am, but when I think of being outside I long to explore a world I never see. A hunger bubbles up and I want to ingest as much as I can before they take me back to the home they chose for me.

Once Parent Hannah and I are in our grey leather seats, Hedley shuts the door with a bang, putting us into darkness, thanks to the windowless bubble we’re caged in. The inside of the car becomes a heavily padded cell.

Within seconds subtle lights fade up, allowing us to see a little more – although there’s not much to look at. Sitting in our comfortable spots at the back, we hear Hedley getting into the driver’s seat and closing the door with a dull thud. That tells me it’s just the three of us: our trip isn’t a big state affair. It’s more personal, special and intimate. My heart sings at the realization of where we’re going.

The car moves forward and I hug myself because I know we’re on our way to the happiest of places. A screen lowers from the ceiling, showing us the feed from the cameras attached to the outside of the vehicle. I watch us moving away from the facility, through the city and the towns on its outskirts, enjoying the way my body sways as Hedley turns corners or hits the brakes.

The rhythm is calming yet thrilling. I lean my head back and close my eyes. As usual, we seem to drive for hours, which makes me wonder what time it is if we need to get back for the next encounter. I don’t ask Parent Hannah. I don’t want her cutting our trip short or, worse, changing her mind and having us turn back before we reach our destination. It’s been so long since they last brought me here. The roads beneath us become more uneven – I can feel it in the way the car moves. What’s more, I recognize the dips and turns. We’re getting closer.

Eventually, we slow down.

We stop.

My heart flutters.

The mechanics keeping me in the back of the car moan as Hedley opens the door and sets me free. It’s not as dark as it was when Parent Hannah woke me. The sky is lightening. We must be nearing dawn now. I climb out, feeling the crunch beneath my feet as my shoes hit the sand. The sound causes my lips to twitch into a smile. While I step away from the vehicle, I breathe in the familiar smell of jasmine, rose, bluebell and lily of the valley wafting around me. I hear birds chirping and water trickling, which fills me with joy.

I’ve been coming here for years. Parent Rita brought me here first. When we got into the car, she revealed they’d found me a beach alcove outside, a place in the real world that was for me alone. The scientists built its own dome and air system. It was reserved just for me. They had not brought me here in years.

When she first told me, I didn’t care what it looked like. It could’ve been a patch of dirt for all I cared. I was simply overwhelmed that a patch of something out here was going to be mine. I was blown away when I arrived to find a large sandy area, with cliffs in full bloom, with a small stream trickling through the middle of the sand toward the sea. I asked why they’d allowed me to come here, but all the while I couldn’t stop smiling as I took it all in. I could tell Parent Rita was pleased by my reaction.

I was so grateful that I hugged her. She let me, and whispered into my hair that it was all for me. All mine. We ran through the shrubs and played for hours. I can picture Parent Rita here, smiling, as we played hide and seek. I hear our laughter, rising to the leaves high above. I felt closer to her than ever before. She’s not been back here with me since, even though I know she felt as I did. Her joy wasn’t faked or forced. It was genuine. She was kind, friendly and affectionate.

But after that day, she distanced herself from me. A veil dropped between us and she became an authority figure, judging my every move. Our day here together has become a memory I find myself questioning. It was so different from how we are now.

Hayden and Joven have never come either, but that makes sense, of course. It is me they need to keep in line, and me that they need to keep motivated and subservient. I opened my eyes and kept walking. I lose myself in the soft sand, the comfort of the scent and the sound of sea water.

I sit and listen, watching the birds fly over the dome. The trees dance in the breeze and the water ripples. In the facility, I have my garden and the view by the pool to escape to. I love it up there, perched above the clouds with Hayden at my side. Here, amid nature, I feel less isolated, but stronger than ever. I’m empowered to do all I can to ensure humanity survives, surrounded by such beauty. This is nature’s doing.

Here, no one prunes the overgrown weeds that stand proud on the cliff sides, like we do in the facility’s garden. Instead, everything’s allowed to grow as it likes. It flourishes of its own accord.

Sometimes I feel I’d like to be a single bloom here. A rose allowed to follow her own course … Parent Hannah followed me from the car and perched behind me. Her eyes are closed as she, too, loses herself in the tranquillity of a peaceful morning setting. What must it be like for her to be so far from the world she grew up in? At least I don’t know anything different. Her forehead creases in thought – half a dozen lines becoming deeper than usual. Perhaps a memory from that time long ago.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

She nods, her eyes remaining shut. We stay like that for a few moments until she says, “I have got a gift for you.” She pulls a little package, wrapped in brown paper, from her bag.

“A book?” I predicted with excitement. I’ve always imagined that books out here are like the clothes they give me in the facility, a gargantuan quantity just waiting for me. They don’t give me a limitless stream of books. I know they hold some back from me because most of the ones I’ve read were written hundreds of years ago – I’ve made a note of their publication dates. I’ve not read anything written within the last seventy or so years, maybe more. I asked about it once. I wanted to know why there was such a gap in literature.

Naturally, I was curious – there is so much I don’t know. Parent Rita told me that, many decades before, technology had taken over so there had been no need to produce actual books. But that was all. I’ve learnt to be thankful for what I receive and keep certain thoughts in my head. Greed is an ugly sin and I know I should want no part of it … yet I experience a surge of joy when I receive something new.

“It is not a book, exactly,” she says.

“Oh?”

“Well, it is, it’s just … Open it.”

I laugh at her uncharacteristic loss for words and rip apart the paper eagerly.

“What is this?” I asked, inspecting the object in my hands. It’s more like a notebook,like the ones I use in the classroom, although with its black leather finish it’s far more luxurious. My hand grips its spine while I thumb the pages, glimpsing what’s inside.

My heart stops at the handwriting. ‘“It is your mother’s,” Parent Hannah says quietly.

I turn to the first page and a lump forms in my throat.

Letters to my baby girl.

You don’t know me yet, but I am your mother. You might not call me Mother, you might choose Mumma, Mummy or Mum – but whichever it is will make my heart whole. I can’t wait to hear you call me. I can’t wait to see you grow up. But more than anything, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and to know you’re finally here and you are safe. My life will be complete when you’re in the world with your father and me, but until then, this is a little gathering of letters from me to you, from mother to babe.

“Why haven’t I seen this before?” I asked.

Parent Hannah’s face is pensive but stern. “It is best to focus on the fact that you have it now, Hope. Please learn that not all battles should be fought, especially those that start with good intentions.”

I look back at the book in my hands and ran my fingers over my mother’s words. Words she wrote for me to read. I could sit and read all of it in one go, thinking about how her hand must have glided across the page as she dreamt of our future together. I could soak up every little detail of who she was, what she wanted for me, and ponder over whether anything has been realized, but I don’t want to rush through the only tangible thing that’s passed between us.

The opening paragraph is enough for now. I placed the book against my chest and held it there. I feel more complete, almost whole.

I took Parent Hannah’s hand in mine, stroking her thin and wrinkled skin with the other. She may not be my real mother, but she is here and has bridged the gap. This isn’t how I’d expected the day to start, but I’m glad it has.

Time passes while I enjoy the setting, the warmth of Parent Hannah’s hand in mine and the feeling of promise that swells inside me at the thought of what awaits me.

For once, everything feels real.