Across the Universe - Beth Revis [109]
“No, don’t bother. I’ve been up there before. We won’t get lost.”
The nurse seems reluctant, but she nods. She watches us with beady eyes as we approach the elevator. She’s clearly expecting us to make a run for it, but I just push the call button and wait for the elevator.
“We can escape,” I mutter to Steela. “I know some back ways—I can get you out of here with no one noticing.” I’m not even sure why I’m offering. If she needs medical attention, she needs the doctor. It’s just that all of her fire is gone, replaced with fear, and it’s killing me inside.
Steela shakes her head. “I can see myself standing up on that Great Room, pregnant with me daughter, looking at those stars. Can see it, clear as clear. But it can’t have happened, could it? That nurse said lots of us were getting delusional. Maybe it is me age. I reckon I should see the doc.”
The elevator doors slide open. I don’t let go of Steela’s arm until she’s safely inside with me. My finger hovers over the third floor button, hesitating for a moment before it slides up and presses the button for the fourth floor. My stomach drops as we start to rise. We are both silent.
The elevator bobs for a minute, then stills. The light indicates we’re on the fourth floor.
“Stay with me,” Steela whispers as the doors slide open.
62
ELDER
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE WAS NO PLAGUE?” I ASK, MY MIND racing. This is one of the few things all of us—me, the Feeders, the Shippers, all of us—were taught. It is the first lesson every child on the ship learns: We must work together, be diligent, or risk another Plague. It is such a part of our lives that we slap a med patch on if we even think we’re getting sick, and every sneeze is reported to Doc.
“There was no Plague. Sure, there’s been sickness on the ship—some of it quite damaging, honestly—but no widespread Plague.”
“But the deaths ... we’re still recovering from the death tolls from the Plague. We’re not even up to original numbers now, and the Plague was so long ago.” I think of the empty trailers in the City, of how there is still growing room for us aboard the ship, even though the Plague was longer ago than any living memory. “You taught me about this. You told me three-fourths of the ship’s population died under the Plague.” I cannot hide the note of accusation in my voice. But really, I should not have been surprised. The lightbulb stars in the room beyond are proof enough of that.
“There were deaths. But not from a Plague.”
“What do you mean?” Roles are reversed now. Eldest is the calm one; I am the one bordering on panic. How much more of my life will I discover has been built on lies?
“Come on.” Eldest sighs as if he’d rather not show me anything, but before he can change his mind, I jump up and follow him out of the Learning Center, across the Great Room, and down the hatch to the Shipper Level. His shoes tap unevenly on the tiled floor, making his limp more noticeable. He ignores both me and the Shippers who snap to attention.
The Shipper Level reminds me, in a strange way, of the cryo level where Amy was. There are no living quarters here. All the Shippers live in the City on the Feeder Level and take the grav tube here. Instead, this level, like the cryo level, is all metal. Hallways branch off into laboratories and offices, some fitted with biometric scanners and some so old-fashioned that they have actual locks from Sol-Earth. For the most part, I’m ignorant of what lies behind the doors. Eldest has never bothered to let me learn the intricacies of what the scientists and Shippers study and do. I know, vaguely, that the importance of the job is determined by where it is on the level. The offices nearest to the grav tube are the least important, dealing with things like weather manipulation and soil-sample testing. The farther down the hallway you go, the more important the research. The farthest I’ve been is about midway down, where the solar lamp research is done.
Eldest takes us all the way to the end of the hall. I’ve never even walked this far down the hall, let alone gone