Quantum State Page 2

  Auburn hair falls to Diana's pointy chin in a bob as she serves a few spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese to Papa's plate, her opal irises more blue today. The dish is frankly one of my all-time favorites, and I dig in quickly. Ash and Lotus, my tabby and Siamese cats, circle the table at their leisure until I give them attention. Every household is allowed two animals from a list of either cats, lizards, or birds. There are not many other animals—besides a few bugs—inside of Cherni. MAQS says it's because we need to keep Cherni clean and orderly, and too many animals will cause too many difficulties for us. MAQS let me choose my pets at the animal house in Cherni when I turned ten, a kind of consolation for losing Mama. Everything changed the night I lost Mama, and I never felt the same. At least my cats and Esfir came into my life soon afterward. I don't know what I'd do without them.

  “Are you going to read the paper all night, Alexander?” Diana asks, brushing trimmed dark hairs back behind his ear. Papa is exceptionally tall, and even while sitting, he is several inches above us at the table. He still reads the newspaper and hardly glances up at Diana until she sits to enjoy her food. Aluminum legs hold up soft, cranberry-colored cushioned chairs.

  “Done.” Papa folds the newspaper, his umber eyes meeting us, as he pulls his chair closer to the table with his plate of food. “Just wanted to read about the building of another Cylindrical, that's all.”

  Diana hawk-eyes him until he takes a forkful of macaroni and cheese.

  “Another what?!” My ears perk to the news, news that is printed daily by newsbots and left on everyone's front porch each morning, news that is based on information given by MAQS. Therefore, I find it all highly suspect.

  I don't trust MAQS, or anything I can't look into the eyes of. Just doesn't feel right. How can I trust something that won't allow us to leave her district? Besides, she's the reason my mama is gone.

  “A Cylindrical. MAQS determined another one would be needed to ensure air quality for our growing district,” Papa clarifies.

  “Where?”

  “Behind Zone 54 where they're building another park.”

  I stew in the revelation of another Cylindrical to spy on us all, and snatch the paper from the table, my eyes skimming over the details of the construction. Another park is being assembled in that area, and once completed, another Cylindrical will be built there too. I'm astonished.

  My mouth falls agape as I stare ahead, and then Papa adds, “I thought you liked parks. We could all use more greenery.”

  “I do, of course,” I say, catching myself. I can't let anyone know of my discomfort, my distrust, with MAQS's decision. She is Cherni, and dissension is not acceptable. Ever.

  Diana interrupts, never wanting to linger too long in my politics. “So, Alexander, how was your day?”

  “Fabulous. Yours?” Papa is too chipper. Then again, he always is.

  Diana sighs, which means she's disappointed, but she doesn't like to say that out loud. “It was fine.”

  “Just fine?” Papa presses, oblivious to her daily dissatisfaction of life in Cherni. “I'd think collecting rock samples in the district would be an interesting duty.”

  Her brows arch and her expression is priceless. If MAQS could only see her face, I wonder what the quantum machine would say. Maybe something to the effect of, This is the most suitable duty for your genetic disposition and intellect. Thank goodness she can't read minds, or maybe she can. Who knows?

  “Just eat your mac and cheese,” Diana snarls, and Papa shrugs before he slips another forkful of macaroni into his mouth.

  I clear my throat. “So, Papa, how did your farming go? Any new vegetables?”

  “Nothing new, yet, but MAQS says we'll be getting some new seeds soon. Something called squash. And I can't complain. I get to work outside, which I love, and grow the barley and wheat we use in the district to sustain ourselves. I really feel like an interconnected part of the system.”

  Papa's oval face is always a shade darker than mine or Diana's, because of all the time he spends outside. Rock collectors spend half the day inside studying samples with bots, and only a portion of the day collecting rocks. Diana must have scored well in chemistry to be given her duty. I must take after Papa in academics, which is why I'll end up a gardener instead of a plant sampler like my real mama. Mama was really good at studying the health and diversity of plants, what they needed to grow and why they died—at least, that's what she did before she was imprisoned and my stepmum was assigned to us. Diana was eighteen and had no family of her own yet, since we aren't assigned our husbands until eighteen. I was conceived when my mama turned twenty-one.

  I have my papa's umber eyes and dark, thick hair. My mama had aster-colored eyes and dirty-blonde hair. Unfortunately, I also have my real mama's shorter 5'6” height. One of the few things I still have of hers.

  I don't have much of Mama's except her name—Masha—and one possession. Most of Mama's belongings were destroyed when she was caught fleeing Cherni, everything except a white ribbon she used to wear in her hair that I keep tied around my left wrist. The ribbon fell off when she was arrested and Papa saved it for me. Damn Keepers, she just about made it out, too, before one nabbed her. I don't think I can ever forgive the Keepers for that, or MAQS. I was just nine and a quarter and hardly remember much, except for her unhappiness—much like Diana's—and the touch of her forefinger on my cheek when she'd wish me goodnight. Ah, she smelled like the lilacs she used to grow in a single pot in the backyard. I didn't see her escape or her capture, but she spent six years in a jail cell unable to see family until she finally killed herself. I was fifteen and three-quarters when I had to attend Mama's funeral. That was two years ago.

  Papa's comment of feeling like an interconnected part of the system festers inside of me, because I can't fathom anyone feeling connected to this…this farce, this system that destroyed Mama. And finally, I explode. “And what system is that?” I say more sarcastically than intended, and I regret it immediately. Papa and Diana look up at me, confused, like they don't understand my outburst. Why should they? I stare at Papa. “The system you feel so connected to?”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” he says sharply.

  “Nothing, I didn't mean anything.” I finish the last bite of my food, shifting in my seat uncomfortably, because we all know MAQS listens—to everything. “May I be excused?”

  Papa eyes me down as if to say, Be careful, MAQS is watching you. “Sure.” I know he doesn't want me getting myself into trouble.

  My bedroom is cornered between two walls at the end of the house, adjacent to the baby's room. My new baby brother sleeps in there, except when he's crying, which is most nights. I still don't understand why we don't have carebots at home to help us in the house with Julian at night, but MAQS says this is for the betterment of humankind. In the daytime, Julian is dropped off at the zone Pod's infant level, at eight, because that is when everyone's duty begins—including Mama's.

  Another eight. Esfir would be proud.

  My stepmum gets a break from Julian then, a break MAQS says is instrumental in giving her the strength she needs in order to provide the perfect emotional balance for Julian later in the day when she picks him up at three in the afternoon. I'm so glad MAQS has it all worked out. So is Papa, apparently.

  I'm in my room by five after an eventful dinner, and decide to plop on my bed and just zone out for a bit until it's time to meet up with Esfir. The room's walls are painted a rose hue. Apparently, that is my favorite color, MAQS says, and will invigorate me to fulfill my potential. I think my potential is to avoid the Pods as much as possible, and sneak around the machinery we're all forbidden to touch—but that's a secret I'll never tell her.

  Books with basic math, botany, and chemistry sit on my desk. We don't study most other sciences. I've heard the names mentioned on our black and white TV, and sometimes have even read about them in stolen books every now and then, but we don't have classes on biology, physics, astronomy, cosmology, or anything to do with the water and mechanics. We don't even have many books on those subjects, and what we do have is locked in trunks inside the Pods. I'm not exactly sure why. I've asked MAQS this before, too. She says it's because we have no need for those lessons.

  Esfir says she's trying to keep us in the dark so she can control us by keeping secrets from us— she doesn't want us knowing cosmology, Esfir says, or reading certain books because then we will know too much. She doesn't want us knowing where we are or what year it really is, or even how to build vehicles. I have to admit, I think he's right. If we are ever sick or hurt, we have to rely on a doctorbot to heal us. We could never get far on our own outside of Cherni without knowing how to mend our own bodies.

  Control seems like a logical answer.

  But I do enjoy the math, always have. I even score As on most assignments, and do well enough in botany, but without a high score in chemistry, I can't do much else than a duty related to husbandry. On my door, I have a few pencil drawings and paintings with awful colors from art classes I've taken over the years. A quilt I sewed in school hangs over one wall. I even remember having a cooking class once and burning most of the brownies. But MAQS says this education is for human betterment and we all must attend. After high school, we are expected to enter our duty. Everyone does this, but I need more.

  I stare at the miniature robot I made out of toothpicks that stands on my dresser. I remember being bored one day in class. Luckily, I managed to hide him in my backpack before the educatebot noticed. I've been in trouble before for taking miscellaneous items from Pod and making moving objects like pinwheels, and hand-sized box cars. MAQS didn't like that, and a few educatebots have crushed my creations with their clasped palms right in front of me.

  Sometimes at night, my mind spins and spin
s, and all I see are tiny pieces of things, not really even things—more like fragments of objects—like sand particles. I imagine what the world would look like if everything was broken down into its smallest parts—if it has smallest parts.

  Then, all I can see is the clock hanging in my family's hall, the grand clock that dings every hour. The image shrinks and shrinks until there is no time at all and then I wake up sweating. I have this dream a lot.

  There just has to be more to life than mere atmospheric samples, rock samples, plant samples, farming wheat and barley, farming peanuts, or fruits and vegetables, gardening, maintaining the minute plots of grass in the district, or being a Keeper…then, of course, returning to your homes for dinner and sleep.

  I thought I wanted to be a Keeper once to infiltrate the system. Keepers must maintain harmony in the district, and talk with people at town hall when there is a problem. They even speak with MAQS about issues and offer their ideas for solutions. Of course, they don't get to speak with MAQS personally. No one does. I don't think anyone has ever actually even seen her. Keepers, like the rest of us, talk directly to a servicebot who speaks for her. But at ten, I learned that to be a Keeper, one has to have a clean family, meaning no arrest records. Because of my mama, I had to give up that dream.

  Instead, I aspired to be an atmospheric sampler, because people can't argue with facts and samples, and proving MAQS is a liar is the first step to taking this system down. But it turns out, MAQS is never going to let me have that duty, either.

  Low chemistry score or not, I will find a way to study the atmosphere and prove to the district that MAQS is lying. Mama wanted to leave for a reason and I remember her telling Papa that she didn't trust MAQS, that she needed to see what's out there. Besides, no one in Cherni really gets sick often, and no one even has respiratory issues, so what could possibly be wrong with the air, anyway?

  My head turns over on my plump creamy pillow to read the circular pink clock hanging on my rose-colored wall. The short hand sits on the six and the long hand at thirty-five. Almost time to meet Esfir.

  I open my closet. To the far left are black tunics for sleep, in the middle are crisp white tunics for the daytime, and to the right are the mangosteen-colored pants and shirts I used to wear before I turned twelve. I couldn't throw them out for recycling. Too many memories in them. Too many hugs from Mama in them.

  After pulling a white tunic off a shaking hanger, I redress, tie my hair into a ponytail, and head to the window. Then, I slip a small tube of black shoe polish into my back pocket. I've only ever snuck out past eight on two other occasions. Once to meet Esfir at the hills to watch a comet in the sky—which MAQS had precisely calculated—and once on my sixteenth birthday when all my friends wanted to meet at my Pod for a nighttime party. MAQS found out about that one and all were given a warning, except me—thanks to Esfir.

  After my second leg slips over the sill, I close the window with a tremble and head toward the front of the house, my sandals crunching the sandy pebbles the whole way. I see Esfir's silhouette anxiously waiting for me under our favorite maple tree near the sidewalk. This is the only maple in our zone.

  As I approach, I wonder if I should have taken a jacket—it doesn't really get cold in Cherni, but sometimes there are gushes of wind. Still, it never even snows like I've seen on TV. Esfir thinks that's odd, because he swears our district must be located in the north somewhere on the Euro-Asian continent, according to the stars, and if that's true, we should be seeing a lot of snow.

  He's fascinated with stars, ever since his first cosmology book at twelve, which I smuggled to him from my Pod's trunk. I learned how to pick the lock when I was ten. I could be sentenced to jail for a week if caught, but I've never been caught. Since then, he's devoured everything he can about the stars and space. He regularly 'borrows' the books I steal.

  From my Pod and his own, there are only a handful of cosmology books in Cherni. MAQS says she keeps them locked up in trunks for future generations, but that she doesn't think we are ready for them, yet

  So, Esfir has to be creative with knowledge. Each Pod also has a different curriculum, based upon the genetic code of those attending. Consequently, each Pod has a variation of books suited for that genetic composition, and every zone is broken up by physical strengths and aptitudes—categorized and labeled. My zone, and therefore Pod, both score high in gardening and farming, though there are a few exceptions, like my real mama was. Esfir's zone is scientifically minded, which is apparent whenever he opens his mouth. But even they are only allowed to study math, botany, and chemistry. Esfir scores well in all three.

  Esfir's waves to me as I approach until he wraps his palm around mine. “Time to go. Are you ready?”

  I nod, not wanting to reveal the quiver in my voice.

  “You look good in ponytails,” he comments, and I grin with a blush.

  We keep a low, quick pace and run close to the homes, drawing cover whenever we can. When we reach the end of the sidewalk, there are a few stragglers here or there, and a huddle of kids laughing in a corner just a few yards to our left—but they will all dissipate the closer we get to curfew.

  Esfir looks to me, his defiant eye keeping me strong. I nod again, reassuring him that I'm still in this. Then, we look ahead, into the distance where we see the Cylindrical. The silent machine would go unnoticed if not for the grand scale of its construction.

  We have to travel through Esfir's zone, Zone 32, which is diagonal to my own, and then up and behind Romanov Pod, and up a hill. As we approach the park, the district's streetlights dim and the air feels much cooler. I glance at my wristband, which flashes in electronic digits: 7:30 P.M.

  “Almost curfew,” I say.

  State of Fear

  “Don't worry, Masha.” Esfir's chin nudges upward as his avocado eyes grow big. “We're almost there, and I promise I'll get you back safely.”

  “Then we'd better disguise our faces.” I pull out the black shoe polish from my back pocket, and smudge the color onto my forefinger and index finger before applying the black disguise to Esfir's face. A smudge of dark polish on his forehead. Then, under his eyes and over his cheeks and some on his chin. “It'll confuse the bots' facial recognition program, in case we run into any.”

  I found this out by accident once when I wore make-up that I created from plants at home. I smeared it all over my face. I was only fourteen and had no idea how to wear make-up since we don't really have any in Cherni. But I'd seen women on TV wear it, and had an idea. I noticed that my educatebot had a difficult time recognizing me. So, the next day I covered my face with black shoe polish after I left home and went to Pod. The educatebot had no idea who I was. That was a fun day.

  Though the bots primarily use height and size measurements, there are many citizens of Cherni with those the same measurements as me. I discovered that bots can't identify us properly without both basic body measurements and consistent face shape metrics.

  “Let me do you.” Esfir slips his fingers into the tube of shoe polish and begins to disguise my face with it.

  “Did you bring the weather balloon?” I ask, concerned. “After all, your mama is the one who studies the atmosphere, not mine.”

  Esfir tugs his knapsack open and pulls out the top of the balloon from over his shoulders. “All in here, and a few vials, too, for other sampling.” He rakes the charcoal-black sack a few times with his knuckles.

  I clear my throat, ready for the apology I owe him. “I'm sorry about practically accusing your mama of being a traitor the other day.”

  “It's fine, I get it. I don't even trust the results the atmospheric team claim. I also want to see the results for myself.” His voice is firm as I gaze at him, his stature a sure few inches taller than mine.

  “Thanks, but parents are really off limits. I'm sure your mama's not even involved. If anything, the bots probably doctor the samples before the human team even gets to analyze them.”