And these days, she didn’t think she trusted herself around other people: her satisfaction with life in Rise had so ebbed that she didn’t think she could hide it. She wasn’t fearful — Walker was no tyrant, and she gave genuine thanks to him and Barton every day — but she felt an increasing urge to share her worries, vague though they were. To preach. And she found herself thinking about Cleave often. The Chief Scientist hadn’t been seen in years. Decades. The human being who knew the most about the earth wouldn’t leave her own little bubble, itself inside a city-bubble. Malee sometimes wondered if Cleave and she were kindred spirits. It was probably wishful thinking, she usually concluded.
She typed her password — ‘Hungryforsomething01’ — and waited for her autoscreen to appear. Her task for the day was to carry on doing what she’d been doing for close to a decade: crunching numbers about weather patterns, both locally and in those parts of the earth where only drones ventured. Specifically, she researched rain: where it fell, what happened to the water once it touched earth. She had no specific idea what happened to her research when she sent it off, no idea what Cleave used it for. She understood the necessity for this: most people who were exposed to the whole story of the state of the earth struggled to carry on. But she still suspected that her main function was to keep herself occupied.
These days, and especially during the last year, it had rained more often, both in the sky over Rise and, according to the satellites and the drones, all over the earth. People hated it when it rained: the domefield enveloped the whole city, the air grew musty, the war out on Grand Lake was postponed. The domefield was a necessary evil that provided essential protection from poisonous water. Except that Malee was starting to think that she knew better. The data she gathered and interpreted hinted at bodies of water that might, just might, be fresh. Clean. Safe. As she settled into her day, receiving data from what used to be called the delta of the Ganges River, an image of Sergeant Sala’s exploding face popped into Malee’s head. At first, Malee tried to suppress it. But after a moment, she gave in. There was no shame, she decided, in eating well.
***
In District 7, Geraldina held her head in her hands, overwhelmed by the tender feelings that washed through her body and mind. Flake patted her back, absently, lost in confusion. The children watched, bemused, as ever, by their hard-feeling parents.
‘Can I leave the table?’ the girl asked.
‘Me too. Can I? Can I?’ the boy asked.
‘Have you had enough to eat?’ Flake asked.
The girl and the boy nodded and bolted from the room, a tangle of arms and legs and giggles. They chased each other to the playroom, where they donned goggles. The floor became a treadmill and they ran through the Old Time, an alien world to them, full of strange lifeforms — animals, they were called — and lurid plants. Their mission was to find the last remaining hippotomus, a six-legged sagging creature with a horn front and back, before it died a natural death, and to sing it a song.
In the dining room, Geraldina still fought to regain her equilibrium, so deeply moved was she by the plight of that soldier. Sala. Some people could eat without limits. But not Geraldina.
‘I always love the new footage the best,’ she told Flake. ‘That poor, poor girl. Did you see her face? So twisted. Do you think there’s any chance that she’ll heal?’
‘I’m still hungry,’ Flake said.
‘And just like that, she goes from soldier to civilian, as if she’s a … like a used cleaning cloth.’
‘I said, I’m still hungry.’
‘Goodness, are you, love? That’s not like you … Do you want to buy the footage? You could watch it again straightaway. It was very good.’
‘Nah, the new releases are too expensive.’
‘We did just watch it for free.’
‘Let’s wait a couple of weeks until the price drops.’
‘And we have all those reserves in the bank, and nothing much to spend it on. All I’m saying is, if you’re hungry for more of that poor girl, and who could blame you, well, why not buy it? The way her face was there one second and then the next second it was just gone. It gives me the shivers. And the way she carried herself through the pain. My mum would have approved: straight back, straight shoulders, straight neck.’
‘I might watch something else. Variety is the spice of life, apparently.’
‘My mum used to say that.’
‘I know she did.’
‘God but I miss her.’
‘I know you do.’
‘I don’t mean just her.’
‘I know you don’t.’
‘I miss all of them.’
They leant together for a moment, Geraldina still as stone, Flake shaking slightly. There was no shame in remembering: Geraldina had been seven when her mother and older sister had disappeared. There was no shame in not remembering, either: Flake’s best guess was that he’d been five when things took a turn for the worst. But he couldn’t remember his parents, beyond shadows. Siblings? He wasn’t sure.
Geraldina roused herself. ‘Why don’t you watch “The Battle of Bare Hills”? That always fills me up.’
‘Ew, not for breakfast. Too heavy. Someone loses an arm in that one, don’t they?’
‘It was a leg, not an arm. And he didn’t actually lose it on the battlefield. But, yes, the surgeon lopped it off just below the knee. What a moment.’
‘Ugh, yeah, I remember. Too much for me.’
‘What about me giving birth to the boy?’
‘Jeez, I’m not that hungry. I’ve never seen so much blood and guts and pain and suffering.’
‘Thank you, love. I was there, you know. On the slab. Living the dream. Smiling for the cameras.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘You could watch the highlights of the first eight hours. Just up till the point when things got messy. The miracle of life, and all that. The joy of our very own child.’
‘It’s a lovely thought, but, nah, not today. Amazing to think, isn’t it, that he had so much trouble coming out, when the girl slipped out in seconds?’
‘You never actually see the amputation.’
‘Eh?’
‘In “The Battle of Bare Hills”: you never actually see the amputation. While it’s happening, you see the soldier’s face, the surgeon’s face. You hear the whir of the saw. You see that the surgeon drops the leg onto a tray, but you don’t actually see the leg. You hear it, oh my God do you hear it. You see the —’