The next day Camilla escorts me to the infirmary. She has volunteered for the duty. For some reason, she's taken a personal interest in seeing me recover. She has adopted me as a project of sorts, it seems.
We walk past rows of silent sleeping figures draped in clean white sheets. Tubes sprout from their bodies, leeching and transporting waste. Mechanized arms attend to their needs, silently whirring as they go about their tasks. As we near where Aiden lies, I hear voices.
"… becoming more and more common. It's time to push the naturals. Dr. Hamilton's projections were right."
"That's absurd. We've always had a percentage that develops ailments later in development. We certainly don't need to panic just because of a temporary spike in—"
The conversation falls short as we arrive. Mother Celeste gazes at me with dark, unblinking eyes. At thirty-eight, She's the oldest Mother that the Haven has had, proof that their work is producing results. They say that once we used to live past one hundred years. I find that hard to imagine but have no reason to question the Matrons.
Beside her is Evelyn, the head Nurse. She looks at me with the same regard as the species of mutated animals and insects that she regularly dissects and compiles data from.
"So this is our problem mount." She narrows her eyes as though I'm hard to see. "Strange, he hardly looks like the sort that would produce such hardy offspring."
I say nothing. I know better than to speak unless directly addressed.
Celeste gazes at me. I freeze under her scrutiny. She sees everything, scans me over with X-ray eyes.
"His stature is of no import. His functionality is. Come, Tristan."
I follow her obediently over to the bed where Aiden lays face up, his arms at his sides. He is encased in a pill-shaped capsule, his eyes closed.
"Your brother is going to die."
I knew the words before she spoke them. What other outcome could there be?
"It's a common illness, and simple to cure if we had the means to synthesize the proper medication. But we do not. Certain elements are out of our reach."
My heart pounds as I dare to ask. "What elements?"
Her warning glance is almost as sharp as her words. "That's not your concern."
I bow my head. "Yes, Mother."
"You must let go of what you feel. Your feelings conflict with your performance. If you can't perform, then you are of no use to us. This Haven has no place for the unproductive. Do you understand, Tristan?"
I can't meet her gaze. "Yes, Mother."
"Then say goodbye to your brother. He is asleep now, and will not awaken. You will never see him again."
I know that his sleep is not natural. Aiden lies on his side when he sleeps.
"Goodbye, Aiden."
I am forgotten. Camilla gently pulls my arm and leads me away
I'm at a loss when I return to my quarters. The room is filled with the sleeping forms of my brothers. They have taken their pills and are dreaming, oblivious to the pain that only I seem to feel.
Aiden's comatose face fills my vision. I know I'll join him soon. In my mind, a rebellious thought blooms in soil that has never cultivated before now.
I won't be able to perform. If I can't perform, then there will be no use for me. They will have to recycle me.
"Tristan."
I forgot that Camilla is there. She stares intently at me with eyes that seem to draw all the light in the room. Her gaze isn't like the Mother's. There is softness there, something that tells me that she wants to help me.
"You have to do what the Mother says. Aiden is gone."
I nod miserably.
She sighs. "You're not listening. You can nod all you want, but I know what you're thinking. You can't just let yourself die."
I feel heat rise in my face as I raise my head. "Why not? No one cares!"
I don't know who this person is that shouts those words. He speaks with my mouth, but I am a mount. I have no right to deny the will of the Matrons.
Camilla places a hand on my arm. "I care."
The words hang in the air like crystallized raindrops. Her face is gentle, and her eyes filled with something I've never seen before.
The expression is quickly suppressed, replaced by a furtive glance around. "You've been given tomorrow off. The next day you will be summoned and will have to deliver. We don't have much time."
"Time… for what?"
Her gaze meets mine. "To get the medication for your brother. If we find it in time, he might live."
My heart leaps in my throat. Aiden might live. "But… the Mother said that we don't have the right elements."
"We don't."
I blink in confusion. "Then who…?"
She hesitates, biting her lip. "Men do."
Comprehension shatters.
3
"Come on, Tristan!"
Her whisper is as frantic as her gestures. It occurs to me that She's as frightened as I am. I don't know if it's because she's breaking every rule in the book, or because of the cavernous underworld that she's taken me into.
The light strapped to her forehead does little except cast distorted shadows. Every shrouded object is a potential threat, a terrifying creature of nightmares that waits to rip us to pieces. There are miles of cold, slime-covered passages under the Haven. Wrapped wires snake across the walls, accompanied by ancient pipes that hiss warningly at our trespass.
I slip several times, whimpering from the abrasions on my skinned knees and hands. I don't often get hurt. Camilla examines the scrapes dismissively, shakes her head and calls me a baby.
"We'll never make it in time if you don't move faster!" The light swivels as she tried to find her bearings. The thin beam appears pitiful against the swell of darkness that surrounds us. Something squeaks and scurries away at our approach. I nearly scream before recognizing what they are.
"The rats know." Camilla follows in the same direction. I don't know what a rat is, but I have no choice but to trail her as closely as possible. I feel eyes behind me, watching. An unseen menace lurks in the shadows, hungering. In my imagination, I envision the hideous Men that lie in wait.
When we round the next corner, they are upon us.
I catch sight of gruesome and twisted shapes, hairy bodies that smell of rust and rubber, torsos with too many limbs and clawed fingers, eyes, and teeth that glimmer in the light, ravenous for flesh.
I can't move. I can't scream. There is nothing except fear so thick that I choke on it. My arms wrap around my face as I fall the wet, oily ground, unable to do anything except shudder uncontrollably.
The arms that encircle me are anything but monstrous. Camilla murmurs comfortingly in my ear. I don't understand. The creatures should have already killed us.
"It's all right, Tristan. They're just… constructions. They aren't real. Do you understand? They're not real."
My vision slowly clears. When I take a closer look at the creatures, I'm ashamed. They are clearly synthetic, covered in layers of mold and dust. Still bizarre and hideous, but I can tell that they are merely automatons, not monsters waiting to eat us.
"The Matrons used them to frighten people from coming down here back in the days when they constructed the Haven. Now, no one has much reason to come under unless something breaks down."
I walk closer along with her, looking at the warped and perverse forms. "But… I saw them in the video. They attacked the Haven." As I say the words, the truth dawns at the same time as her answer.
"It's just something they put together to make you fear Men. They made a lot of those back in the day. Come on, this way."
We pass the false monsters and continue along until we come upon a long metal ladder. I follow as she clambers up. My arms and legs grow weary from the climb. Normally I'm not allowed to exert myself. I feel as though I'll lose strength and fall back into the gloom below, broken and useless.