Motel Serendipity

Liberty - Part 2

Just inside the doors of the cafeteria, a tall, dark-haired man stops my father abruptly. "Commander Rae, some citizens wish to speak with you about today's—" he looks around the room as if it were a secret before whispering the next word. "Events."

My father releases my arm, a signal for me to go on ahead, but I'm too curious to leave, so I hover a few steps away. We have the attention of most of the population now anyway. They watch him with revere and awe – the people's Commander. The one that will save them.

But I've seen behind the curtain. He's just as desperate for their approval as they are for his and the weight of leading the remaining human population, however small it may be, to safety has aged him far more than they realize. He wasn't ever supposed to have to do this alone. It's too much to bear, for one person.

My father places his hand on the man's shoulder. "Warren, I'll talk with everyone together when it is time. I promise their concerns will be heard. For now, let's eat and prepare for the day."

Warren's body does not relax. The tight line of his shoulders tells me he is not satisfied with the response, but he doesn't argue. You don't argue with the Commander.

Breaking away from him quickly, Dad walks through the cafeteria, shaking hands and greeting everyone, as I walk up to the automated food disbursement system. Ever since the resistance altercation led to the vegetation being destroyed, the only thing coming out of the machine is a single Vitabar.

One more, I tell myself, only one more.

I break it into pieces and swallow them like pills, as little contact between my tongue and the sandy, chemical-tasting food product as possible, and then wash it down with water. Recycled, of course.

When my father has finished his food and greeted everyone, he leads them into the Focoum, a large meeting area built for a crowd four times the size of our current population. The extra space is another reminder of all we lost during the rebellion, during those years when information about the above was so sacred, so valued, the Controllers were willing to kill and maim to keep it from becoming public knowledge.

My mother, though, the brilliant scientist she was, knew better. Even with the Controller's destroying records and falsifying information. She knew the heat readings from the vaults surface were off. The data wasn't adding up. There was more to the story. So she recruited my father. He may have been worthless to the Controllers, a mere janitor, but he had every key to every door. Along the way, the two fell in love and had me. Which made Mom fight even harder. For years the conflict raged on.

Until, finally, the main Controller was captured and his access codes retrieved. Years' worth of information was found in his bunker— proving, once and for all, the deep-seated, elaborate scheme to keep us from ever going back above. The only cost was my mother, who fell to one of the traps protecting the Controller. She gave her life so that we could live freely.

"As we prepare ourselves today for a new horizon, we must pause and remember. Remember those we have lost." His eyes unfocus as he gazes over the crowd, his finger toying with the wedding band on his left hand. "Remember those we have gained." His face breaks into a sad grin as he searches out my eyes. "Remember our lives down here. How we have become, not just a united population, but a family. Remember how we took a dire situation and turned it into something to bring us all together and put an end to neighborly hatred."

The man from earlier, Warren, breaks forward from the crowd, his face red. "If that's true, if we're better off down here, then why the hell are we opening those doors? With all due respect to the dead, Commander Rae, what if your wife was wrong? You could open those doors and kill us all."

The words hit my father like a blow and he struggles to regain his composure. "Celia was not the only person to verify those reports, Warren. I have addressed this several times within our general assemblies."

But still the crowd murmurs. People begin to talk worriedly to the others around them. A general feeling of unease washes over the Foci.

So subtly no one would notice but me, lines form around my father's eyes. Worry. "I must assure you every possibility has been taken into account," he starts, but the roar of the crowd grows louder with dissent.

People begin to argue amongst themselves. Those in favor shout and shove at those whose fear has overtaken their logic. My father looks over the crowd cautiously calculating his next move. His hold on the remote in his hand grows loose with his momentary indecision.

I've had enough. Enough of living in this underground prison. Enough of letting fear control our lives. Enough of people shouting down my mother's findings because they cannot accept change.

The access codes have already been entered. I watched my father put them in as he climbed onto the makeshift stage. This is my opportunity. I'm the only one who could get close enough to make the decision he should have already made. I won't let us be buried down here in this underground metal coffin any longer.

I close the few meters between us and pull my father in for a hug. His body stiffens at the unusual contact but he doesn't break away.

As my hand slides away from his back and down to waist level, I say, "This is for Mom," and push the button on the remote in his hand, which hangs loosely at his side.

Gears whir and metal creaks as the population quiets, their faces contorted in shock and fear. Even those who were in favor of opening the vault have now begun to shrink back from the metal disk above us.

They clear the area as a set of hidden stairs slides into view and then descends.

My father grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. "Calliope, what have you done?"

I stare back at him, body rigid and unmoving, unwavering under his heavy gaze. "What you were too scared to do."

The stairs clink into place in the center of the Foci and I break loose from his hold, mind singularly focused on the climb to the top. On the world above us. On the freedom which lies on the other side.

"Cal, no," my father shouts behind me. But I'm not listening to him, or to the whispers of the crowd around me. My mother's blood beats in my veins. Blood full of rebellion and bravery. I am honoring her. I am saving my people.

The food is running low. All the plants are dead. Our population numbers are dwindling. We are one disease, one accident, away from complete annihilation.

A sliver of light breaks through the edge of the metal disk. People cover their eyes, their nose, their mouth. Mothers and fathers cover children with their whole bodies. Some run to the deep recesses of hallways, fleeing the light now spilling through the entire room.

I ascend. One stair after the next. One foot forward, and then another. Until the light bathes me in its glow. The cerulean haze of my lenses reminds me of their presence and I halt, taking a brief second to remove them so I can take in the sunlight with my own organic eyes.

A collective gasp resounds from the people beneath me as the metal disk clicks into a fully-open position.

My foot falters on the top stair as I feel my breath catch in my lungs. The weight of my actions crashes down on me like a tidal wave. This is it. This is the moment.

I turn slightly, as much as the narrow staircase will allow, to face my father, my people.

He hasn't moved, shock and indecision freezing him in place on the dais. They are now all staring at me with the same admiration they give him, as if I have done something God-like. Their anger fades into awe as they realize my mother was right, that it might actually be safe.

I flash my father and my people one last smile before I take the last step into the world above. The world of my ancestors. The world my mother dared to dream of.