Devolution

As he passed through the ID booth at the front of his house, 3 read the numbers on the wall: 2087. This house in Prahbash Rd, Powai was the only home he had ever known and although he loved his parents, and his childhood and upbringing had generally been good, some might have said privileged, he knew he would have to leave soon. Living with his father’s obstinacy and militancy was becoming unbearable.

Out on the street it was uncomfortably humid under a typically ashen sky which always threatened to rain but seldom delivered on the promise. Regular precipitation was just one casualty of the Intercontinental War. Looking to the north, 3 saw a thick mist draped all over Kembla Grange like a hastily made bed and realized he had never seen the sun shine on that breathtaking escarpment, and if the scientific forecasts were correct he never would.

He touched his badge-phone and said, ‘Call Veena.’ Her number was one of only a few stored on his internet phone. He hoped she had already left her home and was on her way to school so they could walk together. Laughing to himself at the idea of him walking anywhere with anyone, 3 was equally grateful that him being unable to get around without his hoverchair had never been a problem for his friends. Although he was all too keenly aware of its limitations, it really did not matter to Joshua or Veena.

The more he thought about it, the more he reasoned it out within in his own mind, the more he came to see how advantageous the hoverchair was. He could travel long distances at relatively high speeds without growing weary. All the electrical interface equipment he needed was built into the chair so he had access to communications and information systems whenever he needed it, and he never had trouble finding a seat on public transport.

‘Hi, have you left yet?’

‘Hi Ted, yes I just stepped out the door. I’m so angry with my dad.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘I asked about the rumors of the school closing and he gave me a lecture about the alleged benefits of isolationism, and told me to enjoy the rest of the year because it will be my last in a mixed school. Do you think it’s true, Ted?’ Her tone was unmistakably anxious.

‘No doubt.’ he replied, not really wanting to talk about it. ‘Should I wait for you here?’

Veena lived a block away in Valley Way. Her family had moved to Mumbai from Chandigarh when she was twelve, just in time to start at a new high school where sadly for her, she knew no one. Joshua and 3, already good friends, had been the first to reach out to her in welcome and that had meant the world to her and still did.

‘Yeah, I won’t be long. What are you angry with your dad about? Same thing as me?’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t ask because I reckoned I already knew the answer. Being the same as your dad. Mum told me it’s a sure thing.’

‘You know if they were of the same tribe they would be best friends.’

‘Who? Our dads?’ 3 laughed. ‘Imagine that!’

Veena kept walking as she talked to 3, and before too long he could see her at the top of his street. Slow moving transports filled the tree lined streets, passing 3 without him noticing because he only had eyes for Veena; enchanted by her. Even from a distance she was stunning, like all Adonites. They all loved their bodies and concentrated on appearances as well as physical and mental health. That made many of them, particularly the males 3 noted, vain and superficial, but Veena was gloriously indifferent, always looking wonderful but never seeming to make any effort about it or talking about it. So well proportioned, and feminine, and although he knew a union between them was impossible and perhaps not even desirable, he could not help but feel irresistibly attracted. What man would not find her desirable? Intellectually, they were equals and they had much in common but, society being the way it was, he had to resign himself to a poor substitute of limited friendship, and even that was about to become another memory, another piece of the redundant past which his dad was always criticizing.

‘I see you now,’ said 3, admiring the confident stride of her long legs, accentuated as they were by hiking boots, short socks and canvas shorts resting mid thigh.

Looking up, Veena saw him and waved, then broke the telephonic connection.

Just then 3’s badge-phone rang so he touched it and answered. It was Joshua.

‘I’m going to be late this morning Ted. Don’t wait for me, okay.’

‘Okay. Everything all right at home?’

‘Great, glory to God. See you at school.’

Saying goodbye and disconnecting, as Veena reached him smiling widely, 3 marveled at Joshua’s optimism. He always seemed confident and happy no matter what was going on around him, in his life or with others. For all 3 knew he could have been calling from a hospital with two broken legs and still giving thanks to his God. Joshua endeared himself to people because he had such compassion for those suffering or in trouble and was always putting himself out to help. Watching the example Joshua set, 3 wondered why all Deists weren’t the same as him. He was such a shining advertisement for what 3 himself considered to be true religion. Personally he did not accept the reality of the supernatural world which Joshua and the other Deists so fervently proclaimed, but there were times when it was hard not to be impressed by their unshakeable faith.

Perhaps it was Joshua’s particular branch of Deism that made the difference, even though 3’s dad said that they were all the same. Religion, he said, caused the war and nearly destroyed all life on earth. Hard to believe, thought 3 based on his experience of Deists, and their champion ambassador, Joshua.

Joshua didn’t even like the term, Deists, and was always telling anyone who asked that he was a Christian not a Deist. He said Deism was only five hundred years old whereas Christianity was nearly five times that ancient, and if you counted its ancestor Judaism then it almost extended back beyond the dawn of civilization. Deists, said Joshua, and 3 had no reason to doubt him, believed in a God who like a great cosmic engineer created the world and then stood back and left it to its own devices. This God did not intervene in the affairs of mankind because he did not care. Christians rejected that kind of god as false.

‘Hey,’ said Veena, ‘Bring that super brain of yours back here, Ted.’

Adjusting the speed of his hoverchair so as to maintain a comfortable pace beside Veena, 3 glided off the footpath so that she could use it. Due to public safety reasons, high gliding was compulsory in densely populated cities but here on a quiet suburban sidewalk, 3 was free to glide beside Veena at eye level.

‘I was just thinking about Joshua and how my dad reckons Deists are nothing but trouble.’

Laughing again in her unselfconscious way, Veena said, ‘It’s like I said, your dad and my dad...you know?’

3 studied her round face, framed as it was by thick raven hair, and was transfixed by the flawlessness of her skin. All Adonites had perfect skin and perfect hair and perfect bodies, that was their focus, physical perfection. No wonder their leaders were so keen on ending the cohabitation of earth, especially with Newtonians, whose unnatural ugliness in their view was the antithesis of their highest aspirations, as superficial as they no doubt were considered by other tribes. Veena seemed more beautiful than other Adonite girls, and more than just beautiful she was intelligent, and intelligence, thought 3, was itself a beautiful thing.

The Adonites had everything. Despite concentrating on physical development and health, they had not ignored their brains either, and although as a tribe they had lower IQ s than the Newtonians, (if that really counted for anything anyway), there were certainly individuals among them who were intellectually gifted. There were genii in both camps. Even the Deists, who as a tribe focused on the spiritual aspects of their lives, had mental giants among them. That was something else 3 admired about the Deists; the balance in their lives, their middle road approach.

‘We are the most fanatical of the three tribes,’ said 3. ‘We are obsessed with increasing our mental abilities and enforcing our superiority. We’re so sure that we have the best solution to the cataclysm, the only true solution. When the world floods we will simply become sea dwellers. Just like that.’

‘You can already breathe under water for longer than the rest of us.’

‘But not indefinitely,’ countered 3.

‘And your body,’ continued Veena, ‘is at its flexible and agile best in the water.’

‘Who says the water will be warm enough for us?’

Pausing at the street corner before they crossed, 3 looked thoughtfully at Veena. ‘And that’s just one of our problems. I mean we may not even be ready in time, although we could adapt wet-suits and breathing apparatus in the interim. I don’t know, I kind of like your approach better, and to be honest, I ...’

‘You what, Ted?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Hey,’ said Veena, pointing across the road to a small dark green shrub, ‘Look at that. It looks like a bird.’

Hurrying over to catch up with his excited friend, 3 said, ‘I’ve never seen a bird outside of a zoo.’

They stared at it, entranced.

‘Me neither,’ said Veena.

Its feathers were dirty looking and ruffled, as the bird perched motionless on a branch of the shrub. Oblivious to them, it simple stared directly ahead and they began to wonder if it was dead.

‘Touch it, Ted. See if it’s alive.’

‘You touch it.’

Realizing he was not acting like a man, 3 reached out to the bird and gently prodded its wing. The bird slowly turned its head and continued its unnatural stare. This time into 3’s face, making him shudder involuntarily. He felt like he had just encountered the visage of death.

‘Check it with your biometer,’ suggested 3 quickly.

Veena pulled the hand-held device out of her pocket and aimed it the bedraggled creature.

The biometer gurgled away for a few seconds before announcing its conclusions with a long single beep.

‘It’s dying,’ said Veena. ‘Maybe we could take it home and look after it.’

‘Are you nuts? It’s dying! What are we going to do for it? Anyway biological pets are illegal, have been since the war, and for good reason. Don’t you know how many germs and diseases they carry? That bird could be carrying, and easily transmit some fatal disease.’

Veena looked sad. ‘I guess you’re right.’

‘I am right. Come on. Just leave it, it’s dying, just let it die.’

‘It’s so weird to see a bird,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t believe it. Maybe it’s an omen.’

‘Now you sound like Joshua,’ teased 3. ‘It’s not an omen, its proof that this world cannot sustain bird life and we…’

‘We what?’

‘Nothing.’

3 nodded in agreement with himself, satisfied by his restraint. What he had wanted to say to Veena was that the stinking atmosphere had killed all the birds, or was going to kill them all very soon and before too long it would kill all biological life-forms including humans. Only Newtonians would survive because they would no longer be dependent on air.

Still he wondered about the bird. Before the war, birds had filled the skies and even afterwards, so his mother often told him, there were some birds flying around, and there was hope among some people that the stronger species might actually be able to adapt and survive and eventually repopulate. But the rapid deterioration of the air quality left them with no time to adjust and evolve. There was insufficient time to test Darwin’s ancient theory and the birds slid into extinction. Only a few selected species remained in zoos, safe in biospheres; a reminder of how humanity, entrusted with the stewardship of the earth, had in arrogance, destroyed it. How had this one survived so long?

‘I want to buy a robot dog, but dad keeps saying no.’

‘Shut up about pets,’ said 3.

Finishing the journey in silence, they arrived at the entry point of Ladeeda High School and entered adjacent reception booths simultaneously. He sat still as his eyes were scanned to confirm his identity, and that having been done, the booth revolved open to allow 3 to enter the school grounds. As he did so he looked left and saw Veena emerge, and he moved to her side.

‘Sorry for shouting at you,’ he said.

‘That wasn’t a shout. Don’t worry about it. You’re right anyway.’

They walked passed a group of male Adonites, one of whom called out some derogatory remarks to Veena, reminding 3 again that there would be some advantages to not being in a mixed school. Many of the Adonites were very anti-Newtonian and looked for opportunities to harass and bully them. Because he always hung around with Veena, 3 was an even more obvious target for their sarcastic taunts.

‘Hey Veena,’ called their ringleader, ‘when are you going to stop hanging around with the freak?’

‘You should stick with your own kind, Vee,’ said another.

“Yeah, real men, not froggy freaks like that.’

Veena was already moving towards the group before they finished their teasing. Watching his friend adopt an aggressive posture before them, 3 knew she would fearlessly fight them. She loved it and she knew exactly how much force to use to rough people up and teach them a lesson without seriously injuring them. Physical combat was a natural and necessary ability for Adonites, and Veena was better than average. How ironic, thought 3, that she was afraid to touch a little bird but had no hesitation in kicking the collective butts of a group of tough guys.

‘Supergirl, eh?’ they continued teasing her. ‘Is that why you hang around with the freak, because you can beat up on him?’

‘Maybe he likes it,’ said another, causing them all to laugh.

Veena delivered a sidekick into the stomach of the group’s ringleader, and before he knew what was happening, she swung her foot down across the side of his face and knocked him to the ground.

Watching the entertaining action, 3 wished he could simply use his mindblast. That would quickly and painlessly, for him and Veena anyway, end the confrontation. But as desperately as he wanted to, his father’s words of warning were yelling in his mind. The second Newtonian commandment declared mind weapons were only for extreme circumstances. For the protection of your life, lectured his dad, or others lives, they are defensive weapons. If you use them irresponsibly you will not only be in violation of the law but you will alienate yourself further in a society where most already consider us to be freaks and misfits, and do harm to the reputation and position of our tribe. Heavy stuff.

‘Veena,’ he called, ‘Just stop. Don’t worry about it.’

Busy beating the big mouths, Veena didn’t hear 3 until he came right up beside her and shouted. She almost knocked him out of his hoverchair with another spinning kick which was intended for the last man standing. He noticed the big smile on Veena’s face.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I got a little carried away.’

‘I’m glad we’re friends,’ said 3, with a smile.

Suitably embarrassed, the boys stood around in a ragged circle with their shoulders hunched. One rubbed his stomach, another his jaw while a third was still on the ground winded and humbled. Veena threw a last triumphant look over them before she and 3 walked away.

At the snack dispenser, 3 touched the picture of a flavored milk carton on the display screen, then waved the back of his hand in front of the scanner. Personal Credit Storage, PCS for short, was a recent innovation which combined and successfully realized all the elements of the much vaunted ‘cashless society.’ A decades old dream of bankers all over the world had finally come to fruition.

Three beeps confirmed the transfer of funds to cover the purchase and the carton duly emerged from the bottom of the vending machine.

It said, ‘Thank you Ted.’

‘Come on,’ said Veena, ‘Let’s get to class.’

‘Any chance of you staying out of trouble until we get there?’

‘Watch it!’ said Veena as she jumped in front of him and took up an attack posture. ‘You’ll be next.’

The two friends carried their laughter with them into the classroom, and sat down in their usual seats. History class was first up.