Across the Universe - Beth Revis [114]
“What if one of those ‘brainless’ Feeders could grow up to solve the engine problem?” I ask. “But you’ve got him so drugged up with Phydus he can’t think? Why not let them all think, let them all work on that problem?”
Eldest narrows his eyes at me. “Have you forgotten your lessons? What are the three main causes of discord?”
“First: differences,” I say automatically. I don’t want to play his game, but it’s habit to answer him immediately.
“Then?”
“Lack of leadership.” Now I just want to see his point.
“And last?”
I sigh. “Individual thought.”
“Exactly. Phydus takes away individual thought, except from those specifically designed by us, who can help us. It’s our best chance.”
Eldest leans across the table and taps his fingers on the metal until I meet his eyes. “It’s very important for you to understand this,” he says, gazing at me intensely. “This is our best chance to survive.”
He pauses.
“This is our only chance.”
65
AMY
THE DOCTOR BRUSHES MY ARM ASIDE. “I WANT YOU TO SEE this.”
“What’s happening?” I ask hollowly.
The doctor glances impassively at Steela’s empty body. “Oh, that.”
“That? That?” I scream. “That was a person just a moment ago! What did you do?”
The doctor walks around the bed and taps one of the clear IV bags. “There’s a very high concentration of Phydus in here. It’s a drug,” he answers me before I can ask. “One that makes people passive.”
I think of Filomina, of Steela’s daughter, of myself. “You’re drugging the ship,” I whisper.
“Most of it.” He shrugs.
“Why?”
“Medicine is a marvel,” the doctor says, squeezing the IV bag. “If there is a problem, even a problem with a whole society, medicine can fix it.”
“You’re evil,” I say, the words creating a dawning realization of the fact within my mind.
“I am realistic.”
I reach down and grasp Steela’s hand. It is cold and lifeless.
“What is happening?” I say, dropping her hand and stepping back in disgust.
The doctor’s oblivious to both me and his patients, intent on the IV. “I told you: Phydus induces passivity.”
“What does that mean?” I shout, a note of panic tingeing my words.
“Passivity? It makes them calm. Peaceful. Passive.”
“But she’s not moving!” My voice grows louder and louder. “She’s not even blinking! Just staring straight ahead!”
The doctor looks surprised at my distress. “Don’t you see that Steela—all of them—are beyond usefulness? She and the other grays are no longer physically useful; they can’t do labor like the younger gens can. They are no longer mentally useful—long-term exposure to Phydus deteriorates the mind, even if they are on Inhibitors like Steela was. Their neurons are skipping around the Phydus, and they either become confused about what’s real and what’s not, or they become rebellious as they break through the drug’s influence. Either way, they can no longer be anything but a burden to our society. So, we take from them what we can.” He nods toward the bag with Stella’s blood. “Her DNA held particular perception and intelligence; we might be able to recycle it. Once we’ve harvested what we can use from the grays, we put them to sleep.”
Steela doesn’t look asleep. She looks dead.
I remember the puppy my parents got me when I was eight. It got Parvo disease and grew sick. My mom told me the vet had put it to sleep.
“You’re killing them?” I whisper, horrified.
The doctor shrugs. “Technically.”
“Technically?!” I screech. “They either die or they don’t; there’s no middle ground there!”
“We are in a contained environment,” the doctor says. “This ship must sustain itself.” His gaze roves from Steela to me. “We need fertilizer.”
I choke back the bile rising in my throat.
“Take it out!” I scream. I lunge for the IV.
“It’s too late. The drug is already in her system.”
I rip the needles from Steela