Intentionality Page 3

  Four

  “Mrs Alder, you have achieved excellent results with the Seeders. They are demonstrating high order capabilities. The statistics from the last screening show that we are now ready to move to the Ascension phase.”

  “That is very positive news Doctor, but we have a month left of the programme before I am to prepare my girls for The Harvest. The twins in particular are not ready yet. There is no sign of the Evo-gene awakening in their characters.”

  “Mrs Alder the test results cannot lie. You must have missed some small changes, perhaps it is because they are twins and you have not experienced this before. One of the girls is showing a higher than normal stress indicator, it is possible that this is the beginnings of her Evo-gene awakening.

  “Natura herself has sanctioned this unprecedented calendar change. To be completely sure of success we have prepared a growth serum, to be administered through their evening meal substitutes. You should notice a marked difference in the girls within the next coming week. The new date for The Harvest will be three weeks from now. The 8th of October. Good day to you.”

  Five

  Our living pod is the exact replica of every other in the corridor; in fact every one of the Seeders has the same layout. My sister and I have been given pods that are slightly modified to accommodate an adjoining door. This gives us just that little bit of room for inspired variation. Our beds are together in one half; we have been able to craft a rest and work area in the other half. We have two practical cleaning facilities, with a shower unit, basin and toilet. Not that this makes us any more effective in the morning at getting ready! Because we have each other to talk to, we are more distracted than the other Seeders, who can’t wait to exit their living pods and begin to socialise.

  Skye, our neighbour to the right, is often a welcome visitor to our home, she is both light hearted and a devoted follower of exercise. She is always the first to wake in the morning. She makes us all feel completely inadequate as she runs the corridors before breakfast. It is her way of taking control. In the process she spreads a little cheer to the grumpier sections of the Seeder community.

  To the left is Dawn, the Seeder voted most likely to succeed. She is smart beyond belief. No homework revision necessary next door, this enables her to be a frequent flier in our living quarters. It’s her attempt to while away the hours as a preferred option to being alone. Of course she could visit the recreation sector but we tend to go together anyway.

  The other Seeder worth a mention on our deck is Grace. She has a power to calm a situation by just being present. She is a comforter by nature and the most beautiful soul I can think of. She will surely ascend into a caring role in Intentionality, as her Evo-gene must be so exceptionally strong to be influencing her before she has matured.

  The colour scheme in all the pods (well I say scheme, it doesn’t take a lot to paint everything white) is fresh and clean. Our towels and bed linen are light green, calming and soft to the eye. The walls are made from white smooth plastic, no sharp lines, everything flows. The floor is a hygienic but hardwearing black rubber. This is quiet and easy to clean. Not that we lift a finger to organise or sanitize. This is always a job for the Monos while we are in class. We leave the pod in a state, toothpaste globules slowly slinking their way into the plughole, damp towels on the rubber floor, bed linen still clinging to the indent of our body shape and breakfast containers strewn where we last had a moment to gulp our last fluid, or chew our last crumb. We are a disaster in the morning, but magically on our return, the sheets are smooth and the mess removed. Everything scrubbed back to its original gleaming self, ready for us to relive our rituals the very next morning.

  We should begin to prepare ourselves for life on the surface. I don’t imagine for one second that we will be treated like princesses once we emerge from The Nest. I am sure we will be expected to cope by ourselves. Contribute to, rather than drain the city resources.

  Our fellow Seeders are undoubtedly heading for greatness, each with their own grasp on the unique skill they can contribute. We are after all in the advanced skills class.

  Lily and I always prepare for bed at the same time, we read and then as the lights are lowered in our section, we wish each other a soothing and empowering night’s rest. Lily does not wish me a good night’s sleep as she knows better than anyone else that when the lights are dimmed, my senses are heightened and the nightmares begin. I try not to scream out as this wakes her and I make huge attempts to limit my internal conversations with her. We possess a skill that we keep to ourselves, because it is not only unnatural, but unfeasible and undocumented. It is an attribute that goes alongside the grim fairy tales from the surface about demons and goblins and witches burning on stakes.

  We are able to picture each other as if we are watching our twin on a screen. We can also converse as usual inside our heads, just as easily as we would out loud. We can do this without even needing to be in the same room, corridor or level of The Nest.

  I take one last view out of the porthole next to my bed. It is my most treasured possession with the exception of my sister of course. I cling to the memories of my gazing like a child would a teddy bear. The view is mesmerising, I can recall many times being either calmed or inspired by the life beyond the glass. I adore the calm bubbles that flow only upwards, to be freed from their watery prison; I love the motion of the green water, meandering sometimes and in a hurry on other occasions. I wonder if I will see the same cubic metre of water ever again, or if it is in fact the same water rotating around like a fluid force field locking us in like a baby in the womb. The fish here are comical. They shoot and play on the current. No two minutes are ever the same in their short lives.

  Lily finds the porthole tedious. It reminds her that she is trapped.

  On one occasion when I was around ten years old, I happened to be looking out, when the most enormous sea creature with two tusks and whiskers came into view. Its majestic contortions in the water were like a song and dance from the ballet screenings we are taken to in the recreation sector. It rolled and looped and then stopped as if listening (if that’s what a huge sea creature does to ascertain its location). Then for a moment it appeared to be looking straight at me! Enquiring as to my health and searching its memory for my animal grouping in its known kingdom. It pondered longer than you would expect and then ducked its nose as if to declare both a greeting and farewell simultaneously. I felt the urge to wave as you would in response to a person. Stupid girl! But stupid or not it came back, probably because it sensed movement where there was once still, nothing more than it thinking there may be a different meal on the cards really, however in my ten-year-old brain I was convinced that it was me and my sign that drew it back. I tried to focus my communication skills on that creature and it did stay for longer than I expected, but I received nothing in the way of mental pictures or sounds back. It was worth a try, though clearly just the stuff of fiction, that character in an adventure book, wasn’t he called Doctor Doolittle? I am sure I read a book once about him talking to a two-headed mammal.

  That night I dreamt of being out in the water, at the beginning of the dream I was hidden in the legs of The Nest. I sat for a long time pondering my next move, wondering whether I would get caught or even eaten! Later I ventured out into the expanse of open water. I have never done this in real life and so my brain was rapidly filling in the blanks. The water was not as deep as I had been led to believe. Amongst the top layer of icy water, I could see the great creatures of the Arctic. Polar bear feet dipped in from an iceberg, seals danced around fish like a game of fish hockey, playing until the meal goal was achieved. Suddenly in the distance a vision appeared. There it was, my tusked friend. I waved again and it nodded, I followed, quite where I found my effortless speed I don’t know, but it led me to an air hole much like the one in The Nest but instead of looking down I was looking up, my first glimpse of the above, in all its glory. The creature left me then to launch its self onto the ice. But as hard as I tri
ed, I could not move further upwards. I was trapped in a grip much like the one a magnet exerts on metal. I was left banging on the iceberg, clawing at its slippery underside, in frustration of course but also with a sense of foreboding like this was a challenge that I had to solve. My brain had reached its imagination limit. I guess at this point my body and mind are screaming in unison. Lily usually wakes me, soothes me and stays until I drift back to sleep. I gave up that night, but have returned in my dreams time and time again. I shall find a way to break the seal, to cut through the water’s surface, to breathe the fresh air of a dream. One night I will make it, but first I shall need to fight through the fear.

  I don’t usually have much trouble actually falling asleep. It’s the staying asleep part that I am challenged with.

  Tonight, I fear, will be no exception. I can’t get out of my head the enormity of the next few weeks. Lily and I must be harvested together. I didn’t realise that she relied on my company quite as much as she does. If I consider the facts though, it’s not hard to believe. We have never been apart for more than just a few hours at a time; we have no reason to assume that this will change when we reach Intentionality. We expect to be living together and working in the same field of expertise.

  I keep a journal by my bedside. It’s just for notes really. It started with the sea creature dream. Lily was so interested when I told her, that I thought maybe I could write a children’s book to entertain the younger Seeders. Every now and then I sit and write a new chapter and take it to the lower Seeder level. They love my tales of ocean swimming. I have to admit that I do adlib somewhat to cultivate the suspense and interest. I have in the past included giant dinosaur like creatures that fly me to magical lands. When the actual truth of the dream is that I never get further than the underside of the iceberg! My dreamtime tales are a popular draw in the lower Seeder levels!

  I haven’t written in my journal for a couple of days since my dreams have been erratic and too frightening to write down. It’s the increasing volume of the voices that is unsettling. I am almost at the point of thinking they are saying actual words rather than vague droning sounds. I can hear the rhythm of words and spaces. I hope tonight will be different. I need a clear head for tomorrow; Mrs Alder posted a note on our webpages enforcing a nine o’clock start and prompt, as she has a mission statement from Intentionality of great importance to pass on to us.

  Six

  The time has finally arrived. Even in my sleep, looking out from my glasslike dream room as I am, I can see Lily and me. We are boarding the harvesting submarine. Waving to the crowd as expected, as I have seen for years. We are finding our pre-designated places and yes, they are together. We will ascend together, as one.

  “I am her and she is me, forever that shall be.”

  I am able to move locations as the onlooker in my dream. I can seat myself where I get the best view!

  Lily is talking incessantly about our Acer skills. We have acquired them simultaneously and they appear to be identical just like us. We are born linguists, able to communicate in many languages. We have been employed to translate historical texts from the scientists in the old world. Maybe destined to discover an invention previously lost!

  We are sat amongst our friends from the accelerated learning class.

  “Oh, just look at that!” Summer exclaimed while pointing to a news camera.

  “Quick, move to this side, smile and wave. We are going out to all of the houses around Intentionality. I shall have friends watching that I have yet to meet. Just imagine all of the parties!”

  That was such a ‘Summer’ comment! She is the Seeder to hold us together. Always arranging to meet in the recreation sector, inventing things to celebrate, inviting others to our group and may I add, she is the Seeder most likely to be mixing without permission with the Monos.

  “Purely for research purposes, I think of it as life training!” she says. “We shall need to socialise with many different people in Intentionality.”

  Yes she is correct, but not all of these new people will be seventeen-year-old boys I assume!

  We begin to travel at an amble, enough for us to become overexcited, shrieking schoolgirls one last time. I look around, Dawn is clearly working out our speed to distance ratio, but with no knowledge of how far we need to travel, she is left to surmise as to our time of arrival at the docks of Intentionality.

  “Here we go girls,” Skye cheered.

  “Hey Dawn, how fast do you think we will be travelling in the water? Will the sea life move or will we hit them?”

  It’s just so far away from our experience level that anything seems completely alien and travelling in a capsule under the Polar Ocean, seems completely bizarre. In some ways we are so prepared to be Acers. We have been given the gift of knowledge and the gift of being nurtured, so that we can reach our full potential. But in other ways we are still babies. We are in no way self-sufficient; I think that many of us are expecting to be pampered when we reach Intentionality and I often wonder why we haven’t been taught the ways of living or surviving, that the Monos seem to know.

  Even in my dream we seem to travel for hours, under the water you can’t really measure how fast you are going or what distance you have travelled. Some of the girls are sleeping in huddled groups. I try to listen in on some of the conversations. But they are muffled by the engine. Out of the blue it starts. The hum and the buzz that signifies the interference in my head, probably because I have concentrated. I can tell this time that it is words, sharp and definite. Not long poetic sentences or gossip. More like instructions to work through a computer program.

  Finally the windows clear, lines of water run across the windowpane, some racing in straight lines, others taking the scenic route! The girls cross the submarine to the right hand side because for the first time in their lives they can see land for real. The waves are really quite still, no icebergs are in sight.

  “Look it’s just so beautiful, I knew it would be. The light from the sun, shining on the waves is breathtaking, alongside the movement of the waves, all dancing to the same rhythm, never stopping for a rest. I hope Intentionality is near the sea because that’s where I want my house and Doctor’s practise to be. How can anyone fail to become revived and healthy with a view like this?” Grace announces.

  After what seems like another hour or so the submarine is bumped and jostled into position, on what seem to be train tracks protruding into the water from a concrete exit ramp. As easily as that, the sub is on land! Again the girls are ecstatic.

  “Do you think if I contact the guard he would let me jog alongside the sub for a while? Just to feel the ground under my soles and the wind in my hair. It’s not wet outside,” pondered Skye.

  But she is answered by the sudden and unannounced gathering of speed. The girls are jolted back on their seats. Objects and countryside pass by in a blur; with that blur comes the loudest, clearest words in my head that I have ever heard. One word is apparent above all…

  ‘Escape’.

  It’s repeated along with other words that I can’t quite grasp. When the sub eventually slows it is to momentarily view a park.

  It looks like a park from a film. The climbing frame, swing and slide are gleaming red. They are being used by happily playing children, wearing bright clothes that are all different. Maybe they have been allowed to choose what they wear, perhaps they were even taken to a shop to select and buy the clothes. It’s just one of the little things that have been kept from us. Here I hope we can feel the freedom to be different. The play toys are enclosed by a cute, white wooden fence, it’s no more than fifty centimetres tall and around this fence at three metre intervals are picnic benches and umbrellas, all sitting on immaculately mown grass of regimental length. Sitting at rest on the benches are actual adults. I suppose they are the parents of the children. Again my senses are awash with alien feelings. We have all seen films about Intentionality and the blissful life we will lead, but to see it live is astonishing, in some ways
a little too perfect. On the far side of the park is a simply gorgeous cottage with a grass type roof, I think it’s called thatched. The windows are small, rectangular and have a diamond pattern all over them. But the most endearing feature is the garden. There are bushes pretending to be barriers and another type of plant, which appears to be climbing the house unaided. It has lilac flowers, which seem to hang like fruit from a vine. This plant has entwined itself around the front door frame. A mat at the foot of the door reads ‘WELCOME’ in capitals.

  I look in my glass dream box to the corner of the park. There is a small copse of trees and beyond that a green hill, possibly fields, beyond that is what looks like a winding road. Something catches my eye at the edge of the tree line. It’s a boy about my age. He is dressed in a worker’s overall, much like the one worn by the Monos in The Nest. He has just arrived, moving fast from the cover of the undergrowth, but not fast enough to cause concern to the children playing in the park or for their mothers to look up from their books.

  His arm is outstretched and the palm of his hand is facing me, creating a stop sign. His expression is serious, menacing even. I have never seen a Mono look so independent and forceful. I keep watching as the sub moves on. He forms words with his lips; I can’t understand why the others haven’t seen him and I can’t work out what he is saying. Does he need us to stop? Is there something on the sub tracks?

  I am caught again in that magnetic pull just like the one in my ocean dream.

  I am shouting now in my glass dream box.

  I am calling for them to listen to the boy.

  To stop…

  To hear his warning…

  To do something other than to proceed on this journey, at this speed, to this destination.

  The sub ambles on.