A New Night

Born Again

Lying in the boat as it rocked in the water with only the night sky overhead, I regained a sense of where I truly was. This was the “calming” program; nothing around me was real. Perhaps this realization came from my feelings of profound numbness. Maybe Jackie had been in control of my self-awareness the entire time.

Time sped up tremendously as I watched us float for a couple days. I was there but under no illusion that it was anything but a memory.

The trio paddled toward the mountain as they were able. Occasionally they stopped to sleep, shared their plastic jug of water, and tried to wave down helicopters. Along the way, they looted what food had floated to the water’s surface—mostly that which had been in sealed plastic bags.

There were a few other survivors as well. Many floated on pieces of buoyant trash and tree logs. Few had boats with motors. Those had seemed like the lucky ones until I later saw them riddled with bullets.

Then came the night I saw the boy in the water … it was what I hallucinated in the jungle. It was too quick for me to do anything, to try to make some change. I could only watch the boy float away in the dark water while a guerrilla boat approached.

After another week of exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, we finally reached the mountain. Upon it, there was a structure that towered in the air. When I got closer, I saw that it was covered by workers who built it with materials unloaded from enormous cargo ships.

The trio docked alongside many others on rafts on a trash-strewn shore. There, people disassembled their various makeshift water vehicles for materials. People in camo uniforms took the names of the new arrivals and handed each a tarp.

Time moved even faster; years passed in minutes. Being younger and smaller, young Dimitry was assigned to work with many other children on the construction of the Wall. Dimitry seemed terrified at first and became only more afraid as time passed and more children vanished from among those workers.

Seasons passed and, after a year of Hell, the Wall was complete. Earlier, I had suddenly realized that I was in the calming program. In the same way, my sense of knowing vanished once again.

I was just Dimitry.

-O-

With a rusty key on a chain, I locked the metal door to a brick, one-room shack. This little building was surrounded by shanties made of trash, mismatched materials, and old boat parts. The sun was low in the sky, and I breathed in the calm evening. People passed by—in uniforms that designated their jobs were heading home with their children. Construction, desk jobs, cleaners, and others were ending their days at the same time as me.

Meanwhile, women in torn and colorful clothing were headed in the opposite direction. Several of these I recognized as the mothers of my students. One gave a friendly wave, and I returned it with a tired smile.

It occurred to me that I was thirteen years old, now almost fourteen. It was strange because I no longer felt like a child. I felt as much an adult as any of the adults around me.

This was a good thing too, because that was what was expected from me. Everyone had to pull their weight to make it after the flood, especially those living on the outskirts. And this little building had been entrusted to me. After the Wall had been finished, things in the city had, unbelievably, settled quite a bit. There was a structured, if harsh, system of government; there were streets, stores, and all the essentials from life before the floods.

So when the workers returned from working on the Wall, we were all given new psych evaluations for our next assignments. My assignment? Childcare … an assignment explained alongside notes on my newly developed phobias and disorders. The way it was assigned to me was as if it had been the least important job in the world—just a human who was present to lock the kids in a room and makes sure they didn’t kill one another while their parents were at work.

However … I had admittedly seen a bit more in the situation. Caring for the younger children—about kindergarten to around fourth grade—became something I was oddly good at. It didn’t take me long to remember and begin to also teach the material that I had helped my … that I had taught to Emeli.

I finished securing the finicky lock when I was startled by a voice.

“What are you doing here?” demanded someone behind me.

I froze. This was the first time I’d heard English in a year. As far as I knew, I had been the only native English speaker among the survivors in this city.

I turned slowly.

The boy looking at me was a bit paler than me. He had blond hair and was much larger in stature—seeming better-fed. He wore a uniform, signaling his high rank in the police force. Maria-Elena had told me to avoid the police force, though she needn’t have. I had seen first-hand groups of them venture into the Outskirts to brutally beat and drag away workers they claimed were truant.

Maria-Elena also said that the devil lived inside the citizens of the City Center. And while I had lost any hint of my former faith after losing Emeli, I was still fairly inclined to agree with her on this specific matter.

“I’m locking up the classroom I was assigned to, sir,” I answered, unsure if I should fear a beating or something worse.

“That’s not what I mean,” the young police enforcer said, putting a hand on his baton. He squinted and seemed to study my face. “Why are you out here in the Outskirts?”

Recollection hit me. I felt my heart race pick up, and my armpits begin to itch. No, maybe it wasn’t him, and just my guilty conscience coming back to torment me. I replied, “That’s where most Bolivians are supposed to stay.”

“You’re not a Bolivian any more than I’m Chinese,” the older boy said. He studied me with his harsh, blue eyes. “I’ve heard about you. The higher officers have spoken about the little gringo with lice who works as a school-mother for the dirty Outskirts kids. They find it amusing that a white person is on the bottom of the totem pole.”

“I don’t-” I started to say.

The older boy cut me off. “It’s giving them ideas. Like maybe it would be funny if I were demoted to janitorial duty.”

“Well, that’s… uhm … not okay,” I said, feeling cornered. The way he looked at me—I could feel the blame emanating from him. I kept my gaze low and tried to deflect his anger. “I was pretty much raised by Bolivians. This is where I belong. Just tell them that you are different from me.”

He looked me up and down, and I could tell the gears were turning in his head. Finally, he nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately for me, they don’t see this.”

“Oh … I’m sorry,” I replied, trying to sound empathetic.

The boy shrugged and said, “The damage is already done; now it’s your job to fix it.” I could tell he had that something in mind right as we spoke and that he was dead serious.

“Fix it?” I asked, a bit startled.

The boy smiled darkly. The space around us seemed to become unnaturally heavy. “When the floods came, I was out there. And I saw another American boy in a boat. He was so scared that he couldn’t even show loyalty.”

He knew! I swallowed and felt my body freeze in place as the adrenaline surged through me. My teeth began to chatter.

The boy continued, “For months, I wanted to kill that kid for leaving me to die in that freezing water while the militia approached to take me away. But the difference between us is that, unlike you, I’m not scared. Not of being in this backwards country, and not of any of the shit that I had to do to get to where I am. I don’t need to kill some miserable excuse of a child like you. Instead, I’m going to be the bigger man and give you a choice.”

A choice? I felt like I would throw up from anxiety.

The boy continued, “You can join the police, learn to be who you ought to be, and repay the debt you owe me. Or you can defy me. In which case, I find a far more painful way to end your embarrassing existence and its threat on everything I’ve worked for.”

I felt my eyes widen, and my breath ceased. The police? The ones we in the Outskirts all knew to fear. The ones who had left many children in my care without a parent. The ones that sent back workers covered in bruises and occasionally even broken bones. No … no, that was the one thing I could never do.

My trembling was enough to answer his question because he replied, “Fine.”

The last thing I felt was some blunt object striking my temple. Everything went dark except the haunting blue eyes that followed me into unconsciousness.

-O-

When I woke, I immediately felt the itchy constriction of tape on my mouth. I looked around and found that I was in a small dark room lit by a handful of monitors. Some of these looked like computer screens—others measured my vitals.

I tried to move, but the skin on my hands and arms burned from the ropes binding them. My whole body—and especially my head—felt cold, making me realize that I had been shaved bald. Somehow … the loss of my long brown hair hit harder. Tears welled in my eyes.

The boy with blue eyes, blonde hair, and a police uniform entered the dim room. He said, “We are supposed to allow the originals to return to their families after the procedure. But that’s when the computers are in charge. Here, I’m in charge; and I have decided to hold you accountable for your actions … your sins against me. You know what they say about the wages of sin, don’t you? Living with a bunch of Catholics, I’m sure you do.”

I screamed something into the duct tape, but it was pointless.

The boy regarded me quietly for a moment, and his expression became almost ... compassionate. “This is not the end for you—this isn’t revenge. To the contrary, I’m here to help you.”

I pulled at my harnesses, but they didn’t budge.

“You need a push to reach your proper place in this new world. Otherwise, people like us will lose their place. Your mediocrity will lead to us being made into servants. That cannot happen.”

I shook my head and screamed into the tape, violently fighting to free my wrists.

The boy with the blonde hair gave me a look … almost like I was a puppy who’d made a mess, “You don’t even understand any of this, do you?” Then, he shook his head as if to answer his own question.

Another voice, a female one, spoke Spanish from somewhere I couldn’t see. She said that the procedure was complete. I could be released so that the data files could finalize.

“No,” the older boy said, looking me in the eyes. He was clearly not speaking for her benefit but for mine. “I want him to remember this lesson forever.”

I stopped moving except for the trembling in my body. Everything went silent as I watched the boy pull a small black gun from its holster on his hip. He took aim straight at my face before backing up just a step. From there, all I could see was a shadow towering over me. A man in darkness with a gun.

The last thing I saw was a flash before blinding pain and then nothing.

-O-

I screamed, feeling the ghost pain. That piece of explosive metal compressing on my skull and exploding between my eyes. Annihilating any form of consciousness for the next five million years. Only once the phantom pain was gone did I open my eyes.

I was lying in the sand. Judging by the soft sun and pleasantly warm air, it seemed to be morning. I sat up and saw Jackie sitting next to me, watching the waves. Again, I was struck by my own feelings of familiarity.

With my heart still racing, I whispered, “What happened to Carlos and Maria-Elena?”

“Carlos and Maria-Elena weren’t attacked,” Jackie said, “But we were never able to return to them. Many years passed before we were reawakened to be an Educator. By then, our funeral had already happened. Everyone we knew assumed us dead. Also, Maria-Elena was very ill. We decided that it was best for everyone if we adopted a new identity.”

“You became Jackie?” I asked weakly, my arms becoming weak and barely useful for keeping me sitting up as the world around me span. “You became…”

“Yes,” Jackie replied with a gentle smile. “You and I are both copies of Dimitry Rojas. For a few centuries, the two of us were not the only ones. There were many other copies that called themselves a few different names. We were replicated and sent to the many cities that needed Educators. After, we ascended to the Sky City. Holographic projections were deemed more efficient than robotic bodies. We could teach children on a one-on-one basis, free of physical limitations. So, all our consciousnesses and memories naturally merged into that of one being, who is me.”

I looked up at her, feeling emptier than I thought possible. There was so much playing out in my head. I was a lost and outdated copy of a person who had died millions of years ago. Not only that, but the amalgamation of the many other copies of me was … a woman. No, I couldn’t deal with that right now. There was so much more at stake—the Night People, Romalla, Scraa, and my imprisonment. I forced the intrusive thoughts out and tried to make my thinking as logical as possible.

“So … why was the doctor mad about me waking up there?” I asked.

Jackie shook her head. “The Triumvirate, through grave misfortunes and tragedies in trying to help less capable species, has established a set of laws. These prohibit members of the Triumvirate and other space-faring species from contacting or influencing the evolving species that still have not reached beyond their own galaxy.”

“So, I broke a law I didn’t even know about just by waking up?” I asked, feeling irritated by the absurdity of the idea. Then my eyes widened. “Am I in prison for it?”

“Worse,” Jackie said and exhaled heavily. “The Triumvirate would like that I absorb your consciousness into my own to mitigate any cultural damage you may have caused down there, if possible.”

My head began to feel like it was swimming, and I began to wobble on my feet.

“Breathe,” Jackie said, reaching out to steady me by my shoulder. “Nothing is firmly decided, and we’ve all the time in the world.”

I tried to nod, but my thoughts began to melt into buzzing, panicked chaos.