The beeping stops.
I wait, as a faint hissing sound emerges from the machine.
“This is a message from the Board of Island Affairs to anyone capable of picking up this signal,” a voice says calmly, filled with static and distortion. “Please stand by.”
A shiver passes through my chest as I realize that I’m hearing someone from the mainland.
“In accordance with paragraph five, sub-section one of the new draft resolution, and the fifth clause of the constitutional script, it is hereby announced that the program to support and tolerate the island’s existence has been annulled. The island is therefore to be terminated. Members of both the senate and the courts have been made aware of the recent incursion and deception perpetrated by Harold Mars, which was an unsanctioned action carried out without the government’s endorsement. Following a series of meetings at the highest level, it has been decided that the island is no longer a viable project and—”
His voice cuts out for a moment, replaced by swirl of static, but the distortion fades after a few seconds.
“This automated message is the only warning that will be issued. If anyone hears this, be aware that the island is now scheduled for destruction, and that relocation will be offered for all inhabitants. Those who refuse this offer will be destroyed along with the island. These measures have been ratified by the senate, and signed into effect by both the executive and the chair of the Board of Island Affairs, pursuant to the fifth and sixth cardinals of the constitution, overseen by the eminent lords.”
There’s a faint clicking sound, before the message starts to repeat.
“This is a message from the Board of Island Affairs to anyone capable of picking up this—”
More static bursts into the signal for a moment, before the voice returns.
“The island is therefore to be terminated.”
I hit the button on the side of the device, cutting the message. For a moment, all I can do is sit alone on the forest floor, replaying those words over and over in my mind. Finally, trembling with fear, I look up at the vast, empty blue sky. It’s hard not to imagine helicopters already heading this way, preparing to clear the island and then destroy what’s left. They’ll swarm all around us, killing anyone who resists and taking the rest back to the mainland, back to the madness and cruelty of modern civilization. A flash of panic bursts through my chest as I imagine myself back in the old marketplace, surrounded by the chaos of the city.
Stumbling to my feet, I start hurrying through the forest, heading to town. I don’t know what we can do, but I have to warn the others.
Epilogue
Many years earlier
“Hello Asher,” Doctor Phillips says calmly, “why don’t you take a seat?”
“I’d rather stand,” I reply, taking a step back.
I know she’s irritated, but she’s too smart to turn this into another petty confrontation. She always thinks she’s so much smarter than me, that she has me under control, but she’s wrong. I won’t bend to her will.
“You’ve grown up to become a fine young woman,” she continues finally. “How long has it been since we last met? A year? I thought I’d give you some space to think about things. During our previous encounter, it was very noticeable that you seemed…” She pauses, as if she’s trying to find the right words. As if that matters. “Stressed,” she adds after a moment. “On edge.”
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“Sit down.”
“I’d really rather not.”
“Asher, sit down.”
“No.”
Damn it, I sound like a petulant child, but I will not obey the woman who did all of these things to me.
She sighs, before making a note on her chart. “I was warned that you have a tendency to be stubborn,” she says after a moment. “Your most recent clinical observation found that you can be extremely stuck in your ways, to the extent that you’ll sometimes pursue the wrong option purely to prove a point, even though you know you’re making a mistake. It’s hard to understand how a supposedly intelligent young woman might choose the path of irrationality over the path of logic.”
“Shows what you know,” I reply darkly.
“You think I’m wrong about you?”
I can’t help smiling.
“You think you’re special?”
I shake my head.
“What about strong? Do you think you’re strong?”
I don’t reply, while still maintaining eye contact with her. I refuse to look away.
“Do you know what I want to talk about today, Asher?” she continues with a faint, smug smile. “I want to talk about what happens when we send people to war. I want to talk about the human mind, and how it copes with those horrors.”
“Then go find someone who’ll listen to you,” I reply.
“You know we have a program that helps ease the burden of the soldier’s life, Asher.”
“You wipe people’s memories.”
“That’s right, and—”
“You won’t wipe mine.”
She pauses, eying me with a hint of amusement. “Won’t we?”
“I can’t stop you sending me to fight,” I continue, “but I can promise you that I’ll remember every moment. You can do your worst when I get back, but my memories are mine and I won’t let you take them from me.”
Her smile grows.
“You’ll see,” I tell her. “You won’t be able to make me forget.”
“Yes, well…” She makes another note on his clipboard. “That’s what everyone says, Asher, but the process is extremely effective.”
“Not on me.”
“You’ll thank us when the time comes,” she continues. “Who wants to remember such awful things? When you return from the battlefield, you’ll be begging us to help you forget.”
I shake my head.
“Oh, you will,” she adds, fixing me with a firm stare. “And I will make sure that I’m personally present to watch as the procedure is administered. I will make sure, Asher, that I am the person you beg.”
“I hate her!” I shout, slamming my fist into the locker door. “You have no idea how close I came to just losing it and…”
I pause for a moment, trying to think of all the inventive ways I could have beaten Doctor Phillips into submission.
“I just wanted to wipe that smug grin off her face!” I hiss.
“But you didn’t,” Mads points out, putting her hands on my shoulders from behind. “Asher, you did way better than most people. I heard Phillips actually got attacked by a recruit last year. Someone actually tried to throttle her before security ran in and stopped it all. I spoke to a guard who was there, and she said Phillips squealed like a baby. Apparently she was on the floor, crying out for help.”
Turning to her, I can’t help finding that story slightly amusing. “Did that really happen, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
She smiles as she nods. “Really happened. So I was told, anyway.” She turns and looks over at Harold as he hauls his kit-bag onto his shoulder. “You heard about that, right?”
“Who do you think stitched the bitch’s lip up?” he replies with a smile, heading to the door. “Such a shame I’d run out of anesthetic that day. See you guys later. I have to talk to a man about dog.”
“I don’t get it,” I continue, turning to Mads once Harold has left. “Why can’t the mind-wipe be optional? Why does it have to be enforced? If they take our memories of the war, then how do we even know who we are?”