Chapter 2—Father
Eleven years later.
Every day the energy builds. Some days I feel like it’s going to destroy me. Some days I wish it would.
But as I run through the desert with the wind blowing across my chest and the energy rushing through my legs and arms, all I want is more.
My feet stir up a cloud of sand and dust as I skid to a stop—a mere five, maybe six, centimetres from the edge. Much closer than last time.
A drop of sweat rolls down my cheek as an eagle screeches across the canyon, its voice echoing as I move closer to the edge.
“Why, Lotus?” Mother’s voice asks.
If she hadn’t spoken, if she’d just let me be, I might not jump. I might just stand here feeling the sun and wind on my face and chest until she brings me back. But her voice reminds me that I’m a prisoner.
Normally she pulls me out immediately after I jump, but this time, she lets me feel the fall. It shouldn’t take more than a few seconds to reach the ground, but somehow the seconds stretch into minutes. Hours.
Everything inside me screams as the ground endlessly advances. I try to remind myself it’s not real. I keep telling myself there’s nothing to be afraid of, that this is all in my head.
But all I can hear is the scream.
ɸ
Gazing up at the portal, I run my hands over the velvety film that recently emerged across my scalp. It’s been 21 days and it’s grown at least two centimetres. I wonder if it’ll stop growing, or if one day I’ll have to cut it like pre-Integration humans.
It’s getting dark. I’ve been lying here almost half the day, sprawled between The Sphere and The Third Door, just watching the light change. I long ago abandoned hope of ever seeing the sun or a cloud up there. But it’s better than staring at the wall, or playing with those damn cubes.
My vision blurs and I imagine floating up to the portal, concentrating my energy into my fist like Wondergirl, smashing through the glass. Assuming it even is glass. Assuming it’s even a portal up there, not just another lie.
“You feel trapped,” Mother says. “That is why you must do the work.”
Her voice sparks the fire. “How much longer do I have?”
“You are making progress, but you must be infinitely patient in order to Integrate.”
The fire creeps through my veins, increasing the pressure on the back of my eyes as the blue light revolves around the wall.
“Come into The Sphere, Lotus.”
“I told you, I don’t want to do any more tests,” I say.
“Is that really what you want, Lotus?”
I clench my fists, feeling the pressure mount.
“Come into The Sphere, Lotus.”
“I hate you.” As soon as the words are out, the pressure deflates, and everything starts to flow again, leaving me behind.
I feel myself going to The Sphere, and as I step inside, everything melts away. The fire. The pressure. The lie.
If only it could stay like this. If only I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything.
I cross my legs, rest my elbows on my knees and close my eyes.
“Which one is it?” I ask.
But it’s too late now anyway.
ɸ
The room bleeds slowly into view.
First the pink-and-white striped wallpaper. Then the bookshelf filled with textbooks and adventure novels. Then the dresser with my goldfish, Maya, swimming in circles around her fishbowl.
On the wall is a colourful world map divided into pre-Integration territories with names like Russia, Canada, China. Beside it, an analog clock with the short hand pointing to the eleventh hour, the long hand to the twenty-fourth minute.
I’m lying in bed, propped up on my elbows, The Adventures of Wondergirl spread open on the pillow in front of me.
“Your room’s a mess, Lotus,” Mother says, standing in the doorway with a basket of laundry on her hip.
Her voice is different here. Everything about her is different in The House. The Mother I remember from the dome was never weak or tired. She was never afraid.
Yet even in her diminished state, it’s a relief to see her.
“Are you listening?” Her forehead creases. “If your father sees your room in this state—”
She sighs as she starts gathering dirty socks and T-shirts, stuffing them into the basket, her movements heavy and slow. “You’ve got to stop dumping your dirty things all over the floor, okay? We have a laundry hamper in the bathroom and I’m not your servant.”
She stops and looks up at me, her eyes brightening as they meet mine. Then she puts down the laundry and approaches the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I say as she strokes my cheek with the back of her finger, sending a warm ripple down my neck and spine, making everything sparkle.
Until I hear the rattle of a key in the front door.
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“Quickly, clean up.” She jumps up, grabbing the basket and hurrying out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.
“What’s for dinner?” I hear him growl as he stomps up the hallway.
I want to get up and start cleaning, but I can barely breathe.
The clock ticks louder as his footsteps move to the living room, where I hear the clink of a glass. The hiss of a bottle cap. The drone of the TV.
Maya starts swimming faster around her bowl. Then comes the first shout.
“Goddammit, woman!”
I turn my attention to Wondergirl, her eyes ablaze with righteous fury as she evades the snapping jaws and whipping tail of Lizard Man. Enraged by his inability to touch her, he hurls a giant stone at the concrete reservoir looming above the mountain village, intending to drown the innocent villagers below.
My heart jumps at the sound of two sharp bangs on the door.
“Got yer homework done, girl?” He walks in with a bottle dangling between his index and middle fingers, the smell of smoke and oil emanating from his grease-stained overalls. “I asked a question.”
His blue eyes flash dangerously as he takes a swig of beer, coming closer to the bed.
“Looks like a goddamn tornado went through here,” he growls.
Mother appears in the doorway, drying your hands on a teatowel. “She was just starting to clean, weren’t you, Lotus? Why don’t you come back and relax in the living room, dear? I’ve made an appetizer.”
His upper lip curls while his cold eyes remain fixed on me. “She ain’t cleanin’,” he says. “She’s readin’ more a them damn comics.”
He snatches the comic from my pillow, crumpling Wondergirl’s face in his fist.
“Give it back,” I hear myself say, the fire sparking.
He grits his teeth, thrusting a finger in my face. “Why don’t you get up’n start cleanin’? Maybe then we’ll talk about you gettin’ yer comic back.”
The smell of his sour breath envelops me as Mother moves closer. I wish she’d leave. Doesn’t she know what will happen if she doesn’t leave?
“Just give her a minute, dear,” she says. “You’re frightening the poor girl.”
Her eyes widen as he grabs her hair, swings her face-first into the doorframe.
“She’s my daughter too!” he shouts as she slumps to the ground. “She needs to learn some respect, just like her mother!”
The sight of Mothers’s bloody face and tearful eyes releases a flaming wave of energy.
As he turns to me, I rise from bed and glare back into his icy blue eyes, imagining grabbing him by his beard and hurling him against the wall, diving into him with a flurry of devastating kicks and punches.
But it’s only my imagination. In real life, he’s still there towering over me, and Mother’s still crumpled and bleeding on the floor. In real life, I’m shrinking while the darkness expands, swallowing me whole.
ɸ
“Well done, Lotus.”
My legs wobble as the gleaming concave wall comes into focus.
“I’m not doing any more tests!” I shout, climbing out of The Sphere, surprised by the power of my voice. “I told you, I’m done!”
I’ve never shouted at Mother before. Not out loud anyway.
“Your suffering is unfortunate, but indispensable to the System.”
I clutch and squeeze a fistful of hair, and I start to pace the perimeter.
“In order to transcend, you must surrender to the process.”
“Well, what if I don’t want to transcend?” I shout. “What if I just want to get out of here? Why can’t you just let me out of here?”
Again, I’m surprised by my voice’s power and hostility. The words reverberate in my head as I pace faster, scratching my fingernails along the wall.
“You must be patient,” Mother says. “Otherwise you undermine the process.”
My fingertips are getting hot, but instead of easing the pressure, I scratch harder, feeling them burn like my insides.
As I pass the stacks of lightcubes, I kick them and they shatter against the wall.
“Control is an illusion. There is only the flow, Lotus, and your resistance to it.”
By the time I’ve completed another circuit, the lightcubes have started restacking, and the fire has started to fade.
Stopping, I watch them roll along the floor, glimmering red, blue and yellow, organizing themselves by colour and size, while the fire smolders and my fingers throb.
“You are ready for the final test,” Mother says.
I don’t know if she actually said it or I just imagined it—until I hear The Second Door sliding open behind me, and I turn to see a silver cube on the table.
“When you can open this, then you are free.”
The cube is incredibly heavy—easily over 60 kilograms—with an embossed lotus flower symbol on top, other strange symbols crudely scratched across the other surfaces.
“Is this the key to The Third Door?” I ask, touching the symbol, feeling an uneasy energy ripple through my arm and neck.
“In order to see it, you must open it.”
I press my palm flat against the symbol and the energy stops. I bring the cube close to my ear and I hear a rumbling, like distant thunder.
“But there’s no latch,” I say, dropping it back on the table. “How am I supposed to open it without a latch?”
“In order to see it, you must open it.”
I try not to get angry. As I rest my elbows on the table and my chin on my palms, I try to distinguish patterns in the strange symbols.
“What should I be looking for?”
“You should not look for anything,” she says. “In order to see, you must stop trying to see. Now, close your eyes.”
I take a deep in-breath, close my eyes, then slowly exhale.
“Will there be others out there?” I ask. “When the door opens, I mean? Will I meet other Wanderers out there?”
“Your preoccupation with the future keeps you trapped in your mind.”
I imagine a crowd of Wanderers clapping and cheering, eagerly waiting to greet me. Their faces all look the same—like Wondergirl’s face.
“Will they look like me?” I ask.
“When you transcend, such things will not concern you.”
Once, just once, I wish I could get a straight answer out of her.
With another calming breath, I picture the cube on the table in front of me. I imagine picking it up, feeling its edges and corners, then imagine squeezing it as hard as I can. I imagine the metal yielding to the overwhelming crushing force of my hands, and I can almost feel the key inside.
“You cannot force this, Lotus.”
“This is ridiculous,” I say, opening my eyes. “How am I supposed to see anything with my eyes closed anyway?”
The cube looks bigger now, its corners sharper, its scratched surfaces brighter.
“Do not get discouraged. Use your breath to enter the flow.”
I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly, then close my eyes and try again to focus on the image of the cube.
“It is time for rest now, Lotus. We can try again when the mind is clear.”
“I thought I’m not supposed to try,” I say.
As I step back from the table, The Second Door begins to close and I hear The First Door opening behind me.
The fire dies as I walk across the floor and climb into the capsule, where I cross my arms and let the fluid envelop me, releasing the weight, carrying me away into the sea of pink calm.