Across the Universe

I didn’t like associating a ship I would be on for three centuries with an island known for a bloody battle in a bloody war.

Now, staring up at these two men who have lived their whole lives on this ship, who have in their history a plague that nearly decimated it — now the comparison seems apt.

“But as we were saying,” the doctor continues, “most of the people on board are either in their early twenties or early forties.”

I look up at the old man. “You’re not in your early forties,” I say. The statement comes out much more obnoxious than I’d meant it to. The old man’s eyes bore into me with a look of either speculation or revulsion — I’m not sure which.

“I am fifty-six.” I hold back a snort; the old man looks way older than fifty-six. “I am the Eldest of the ship — the oldest person, and the one with the right to rule. Before each generation, an Elder is born to be that generation’s leader.”

“There’s no one on the ship older than fifty-six?” I ask.

“A few grays still exist, all sixty or so, but they won’t last much longer.”

“Why not?”

“Old people die. It’s what they do.”

This doesn’t seem right to me. I mean, yeah, sixty is way old… but it’s not like people reach a certain age and just die. Lots of people are older than sixty. My great-grandma was ninety-four before she died.

“What about that boy?”

“What boy?” Eldest asks.

“She’s talking about Elder.”

Eldest grunts.

“Amy,” the doctor says, “Elder was born between the generations. He is sixteen years old. When the Season starts and the young generation begin to mate, the children born from that will be the generation that Elder rules after Eldest passes to the stars. The boy you met is the next Eldest.”

“Where’s the other one?” I ask.

“Other what?” The doctor weighs his round paperweight in his hands and carefully puts it back where it was before Eldest picked it up.

“Other Eldey-thingy. There’s you,” I say to Eldest. “You’re in charge of the doctor’s generation. And the boy I met will be in charge of the new generation. But what about all those twenty-year-olds? Who’s in charge of them?”

The doctor and Eldest exchange a look.

“That Elder died,” Eldest says. His face is dark, set. I glance up at the doctor. His face is downcast, the folds of his crow’s feet crinkling deeper.

I wonder just how that Elder died.

“Clearly,” Eldest says, a tone of finality in his voice, “you are different. Freakish appearance, abnormally young.”

“So?”

“I do not like differences. Differences cause trouble.”

The doctor twitches nervously. He starts rearranging his desktop again.

“Gee, I’m real sorry about all that. But, you know, it’s not like I wanted to be here.”

“Regardless. The easiest thing to do would be to deposit you among the stars.”

“Eldest!” The doctor steps forward, a look of shock and concern on his face.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We have release hatches.” Eldest speaks slowly, as if talking to someone stupid. “They open up to the outside.”

The meaning of his words sinks slowly into my skin until I have absorbed it with all that I am.

“You want to just dump me in space?” My voice is low, but not for long. “It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong! I didn’t wake myself up, you know!”

Eldest shrugs. “It would be by far the simplest solution. You are, after all, nonessential.”

“We can’t do that,” the doctor says, and I totally forgive him for being creepy and threatening me with drugs. At least he doesn’t want to let me implode in space.

“No, Doc,” Eldest says. “It’s very important that you understand, that she understands that yes, we could just dump her in space. We could,” he repeats, gazing at me.

“But we won’t,” the doctor says firmly. “She can stay here in the Ward. That will keep her away from the general population. She won’t cause as much of a disturbance if she stays here.”

“You think so?” Eldest says, his voice soft but doubtful.

“I’m sure of it. Besides, the Season will begin soon. That will distract the others.”

Eldest narrows his eyes at the doctor. Something the doctor said there has struck the wrong chord with him, that much’s for sure. He opens his mouth, notices me watching him avidly, and glares at me. “Come outside with me, Doc,” Eldest commands.

The doctor looks nervous. Guilty.

“Oh, don’t go on my account,” I say, leaning back in the chair. “Go ahead and say whatever it is you want to say in front of me.”

Eldest turns to the door. “Doc,” he orders.

The doctor scampers up and follows Eldest out.

As soon as the door zips shut behind them, I leap from my chair and press my ear against the metal. Nothing. I go back to the doctor’s desk, dump out his pencils, and put the cup against the door, like they do in those old Disney movies. More nothing.

“—last time!” Eldest roars so loudly that I almost drop the cup. I cram my ear against the metal door, straining for sound.

“It’s not like last time,” the doctor hisses. He must be standing closer to the door — his voice is softer, but I can hear him better. I wonder if he’s moved closer just for my benefit.

Eldest, meanwhile, has lowered his voice, and I only catch snatches of what he says. “Really? — The Season starting… someone unplugged — again — and you…”

“You know it can’t be him again,” the doctor says. There’s some mumbling, a deep rumble of a voice, but I can’t discern it. I catch one word: “Impossible.”

“Whabout you?” Their strange accent isn’t helping my eavesdropping, either.

“Me?” the doctor says.

“You.” I catch the sneer in Eldest’s voice, even through the metal door. “You were sympathetic to him last time, don’t try to deny it.”

“—posterous,” the doctor mumbles, “… could as easily say it was you.”

Another low grumbling. It sounds almost like Eldest is actually growling.

“Well?” the doctor exclaims. “Elder told me you were teaching him about discord. How am I to know this isn’t all some sick trial you’ve devised to test the boy!” Something, something—stupid door makes it impossible to hear properly—“like last time.”

Eldest’s voice deepens and grows gravelly. There’s some sort of scuffling, and before I have time to move, the door zips open. The doctor bumps right into me, and I do drop the cup this time. It rolls across the floor, the only sound as the three of us stare at one another.

Eldest’s face is hard, harsh. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on this… situation,” he says, but he’s looking at Doc, not me. He straightens his tunic-like shirt and turns to leave. Then he pauses and looks back at me. “Don’t leave the Hospital grounds. I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.”

“I’m not some sort of prisoner!” I shout at him.

“On this ship, we all are,” he says, and then he’s gone.

“Don’t worry about him,” the doctor says, reaching over to pat my shoulder. I shrug him away. “He won’t put you in a release hatch.”

“Humph.” I didn’t quite believe that.

“I have set you up in a room with all the appropriate necessities. You will be living here, at least for now. Do you have any questions?”