Life was all there was. All that mattered in the world. And in that moment of catastrophic terror, I found a determination I didn't even know I possessed. Just like that, I knew I would make it. I would survive. No matter what happened, I would keep fighting. Keep living. Nothing terrible lasts forever, not even Cataclysms. I just had to outlive it. I had to endure. So I kept going and never looked back.
Because what lay ahead was all that mattered. The world split apart around me, plumes of smoke and flames painted the world the color of bruises. The air seared with dying light, smothered by char and rumbling debris. Through it all I sailed, clinging to hope the way I clung to the handlebars of the skimmer bike, flying away from the cataclysmic storm and into the wild, where in the distance rays of sun cut through the clouds like crystal daggers.
Son of Woman
1
They say the oceans healed first.
The waves sparkle in the morning and glint in silver shimmers in the evening. Something left over from the healing process — metallic flashes of the algae communities that developed for the sole purpose of cleaning up the mess after the Cataclysm. The Matrons say Mother Gaia always has a plan. That was why they constructed the Renaissance Haven just off the shoreline.
They knew what was coming.
I love the smell of the salty air, the feel of the ocean breeze as it tickles my scalp. My hair is long, as long as any of the Sisters, but That's where the comparison ends. I am not a Sister. I am a mount, a precious resource to the community. I was born and raised here at the Haven. And I will die here.
Soon.
My fifteenth year came three weeks and two days ago. When I'm sixteen, I'll be recycled. No mount can remain in the Haven past their sixteenth year. The Matrons say it's too dangerous. They point to the Men on the Outside; those cruel, savage, barbaric monstrosities who constantly attempt to break into the Haven to steal, rape, and slaughter.
I have never seen a Man except on video feed from the security cameras. That's enough to convince me, though. The Soldiers did not have too hard a time suppressing that particular break-in. The Men were disorganized and fought poorly. They died easily. The Matrons say it has always been that way. They say the barbarity of Men was responsible for the Cataclysm.
I have no reason to doubt their word.
It's sunset and my evening for implantation. I lie in on a gurney with my groin area covered by the extraction pump. Stimulation results in the discharge That's funneled by tubing into sample containers that are quickly sealed and taken to the Consort bed for implantation.
The Consort is Jinni this time. She's twenty-two and has borne five children. She watches as the Matrons carefully examine the results of my extraction via digitized algorithms recorded on the console. They appear satisfied, preparing Jinni for the insemination process. I'm not surprised. My track record for fertilization is outstanding. The Matrons tell me that all the time. They say it's a shame my time at the Haven is coming to an end. I don't know how to respond. It's simply the way things are.
As the younger Sisters assist me in dismounting from Extractor, I wonder what we will have for dinner. Seaweed salad and lentil wraps, perhaps. These sessions always leave me feeling lightheaded and shaky, so I take a walk to regain my strength.
It's not long before I find myself at the shore. I love the smell of the sea breeze, the whispers of the wind on the water's surface, the sight of dolphins frolicking in the evening. I suppose it's the only place I have that is private. The other mounts don't marvel at the water as I do. I can't understand their lack of wonder. The sea is magic. There's always something new to see.
Something is soothing about the sound of the waves as they chase one another to the shore. The sand wriggles with tiny crabs rushing to dive in the same waters that cast them away. I don't blame them. The sea is inviting, every move graceful. Nothing can disturb its movements or can withstand its power. The Matrons say we are like the rippling waves. We move uncomplainingly toward our purpose, and then we disappear.
When it's too dark to remain, I head back. Safety is a chief concern for mounts, and I don't wish for another gentle yet firm lecture on my tendency to wander. I'm nearly there when I hear the noise.
There's a commotion just outside of the mount quarters. The Sisters are frantic and call for the Matrons, who come running. A few Soldiers arrive as well with their firearms ready, alert for any danger. But There's no threat.
Just a body.
One of my brothers convulses on the ground. Aiden is just ten months younger than I; we have spent most of our lives together. Now he foams at the mouth; eyes rolled back in his head. The Matrons quickly calm the commotion whisk him away to the infirmary on a hoversled.
I'm ignored as the remaining Matrons bustle about, and the Sisters resume their duties. Something is wrong with the inside of my chest. It heaves without reason, and I feel my face contort. Something wet slides down my cheek.
I wipe it and look. Clear liquid drips across the surface of my fingers. My first thought is that my eyes are leaking somehow. But my blurry vision clears when I scrub my eyes.
"Are you all right?"
Camilla looks at me concernedly. She's one of the Sisters, perhaps a year older than I. Her golden hair is pulled back in a practical braid, and her limbs are lean and strong, perfect for her future career as a Soldier.
My heart thumps in near panic. "My eyes… something's wrong."
Her smile is comforting as she wipes my cheek. "It's only tears, Tristan. It happens when you're sad about something."
"Sad…?"
"Upset. One of your brothers is hurt. It's only natural that you would be disturbed." She looks in the direction they took Aiden. "Don't dwell on it, Tristan. He will be fine under the eyes of the Matrons."
"Can I… see him?"
"Not right now."
"When?"
Her sky-colored eyes become cloudy. "We'll see, Tristan."
I was born and raised in this Haven. I know from experience that we'll see means never.
2
Things have not gone well with my implantation sessions. For the second time in two days, Sara clambers out of the Consort bed with a disgusted look. She turns to the Matron in charge.
"He's not working right. This is a waste of my time. He's useless now. He should be recycled."
Even the thought of recycling does nothing to alter my demeanor. I have been lost since the incident, in a place where nothing can touch me, where not even the sound of the waves can reach.
"Nonsense. Tristain one of our best mounts, and still has much left in him before his time." Matron Li is never flustered. She's twenty-six years old and has overseen the fertilization chambers for the past five years.
"He felt something for his brother. A connection that interferes with his production now that it has been disturbed. I'll speak with the Nurses and see if we can arrange a visit. At least the boy will have closure so that he can go about his duties."
"I hope it will be fast. Jinni's pregnancy was confirmed this morning, and I want his seed as well. His progeny are among the healthiest."
Sara's auburn hair swings as she stalks off. Matron Li smiles as the Sisters aid me in getting out of the extraction pump.
"Not to worry, dear one. We will attend to this little problem. You'll be back in the swing of things soon, I promise."