Across the Universe

“But—” Elder’s face is flushed.

“Here.” Harley grabs me by the wrist and pulls me close to Elder. “Wrap your arms around him — like this. Good. Get in close. Closer. And Elder, you need to hold her around the waist. No, you’ll have to actually touch her. Here.” Harley pushes Elder’s hovering arm against my waist. We’re close. I can smell earth and grass on Elder’s skin. It’s nice.

“Are you okay?” Elder asks.

I smile weakly at him. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or something else that’s making me feel as if I’ve got a bucket of water sloshing around in my stomach. Heck, I probably do have a bucket of water in there, considering how many glasses I drank earlier.

“Give the grav tube order,” Harley says in a matter-of-fact way.

Elder’s hand shakes as he pushes the button behind his ear. “Keeper Level,” he says. “You’ll have to take the grav tube in the City; you don’t have access for this one. Eldest must have opened up the hatch in the Great Room for everyone else,” he adds. Harley just nods impatiently, waving for us to go on.

“And off you go!” Harley says. He pushes us straight under the big clear tube.

I have one second to look up at the swirling winds inside, feel it lift my hair, and breathe the compressed air — and then we start to rise.

Elder’s arm clenches, and he instinctively pulls me closer. I close my eyes and let him hold me, trusting him, feeling safe in his strong grip. For a moment, we hover on the winds blowing around us, bobbing like buoys in the ocean, as if the whirlwind swirling around us is testing our weight. I should be scared, but I glance at Elder’s smiling eyes and can’t help but smile back.

The winds grow stronger. My stomach lurches as we’re pulled up, headfirst, speeding faster and faster, zipping through the clear tube, the wind plastering our hair against our scalps.

“What’s happening?” I scream, struggling to raise my head from Elder’s shoulders and look at him properly.

“Don’t worry!” Elder calls down. His words flit past my ears like hummingbirds.

The wind is so quick and loud that it would be pointless for him to say anything else. His arms tighten around me, and I press my face against his chest.

And through it all — the rushing winds, my hair whipping around me, the flap of our clothes — I can hear his heartbeat.

The tube curves against the wall and we rise, a single arrow soaring through the heart of a hurricane. I can see the blur of green pastures below. I struggle to pull my head up, my neck muscles straining against the pressure, and as I do so, I can see the dotted colors of trailers falling away from us, far on the other side of the level.

And then with a jerk that leaves me nauseated and light-headed, the tube angles up sharply. There is darkness for a few seconds as we shoot through an opening in the floor of the level above us. Finally, we stop.

My eyes are bleary, watering. I feel strange, like I’m sick. I try to swallow the odd feeling down. I’m dizzy, but I can’t tell if it’s from the grav tube ride or something else. I feel slow and tired.

“Welcome to the Keeper Level,” Elder says. “This is where I live.”

52 ELDER

HER COOL FINGERS WRAP AROUND MY HAND. SHE IS HOLDING me so hard that my fingertips, already cold from the grav tube, are now numb, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. She is breathless and smiling, and I wish that we could stay alone in the Learning Center, and that I could tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear, and that I could kiss those laughing lips. But I can already hear people’s voices on the other side of the door as everyone else enters through the hatch from the Shipper Level.

When I meet her eyes, there’s a glazed film over them, as if she’s just woken up. But when I smile, she smiles back. We hold hands as we cross the Learning Center and enter the Great Room. I’m surprised — I didn’t think she’d let me hold on to her that long — but she’s just smiling away, almost as if she’s forgotten that I am holding her hand.

People pile into the Great Room. I never realized it was so big — but everyone’s here, and still more people climb up from the hatch. I see Harley finally arrive, followed by Bartie and Victria. He stands with them, near the hatch, but he winks at me when he sees how Amy’s trailing me. Her eyes are wide, taking in all the new faces she’s seeing. The Feeders cluster together, clucking like chickens. The Shippers all stand stoically around the edges of the room. I wonder what they know. Eldest surely wouldn’t have revealed his intentions to them, but the way they’re standing, huddled together, makes me think they know something I don’t.

Maybe Doc knows. I scan the crowd, but I don’t see him.

Nearly all the people have their faces upturned. The “stars” from the metal screen shine and twinkle. The red dot that indicates our ship blinks. Just 49 years and 264 days away from the still light that represents Centauri- Earth. Home.

“Look at the stars,” I hear a farmer from the Feeder Level say to a woman standing next to him. They move a little closer, their shoulders touching as they gaze upward. The woman snakes her arm around her belly, splaying her fingers over her abdomen. The two whisper to each other, still staring at the burning lightbulbs they think are stars.

It feels like every person in the Great Room is pairing off into couples, and more than one woman has her hands over her belly. I lean in closer to Amy, let our arms touch, but she doesn’t pick my hand back up.

The ebb of people rising from the hatch slows, then stops. We’re all here. Waiting.

A few Shippers gather near Eldest’s chamber door. Their backs are straight; they shoot furtive looks at the crowd. The people from the Ward cluster together, their voices rising over the crowd. When I glance back at them, though, I see that Harley is silent. He stares up, and I guess he’s figured out that these stars aren’t real. How could anyone who had seen the real stars be deceived by this light show?

I open my mouth to ask Amy what she thinks about the false stars, but before I can speak, Eldest’s chamber door opens.

He steps out wearing his official Eldest garb, a heavy woolen set of robes embroidered with silent, still stars on the shoulders and bountiful green crops on the hem — the hopes of everyone on board the ship.

“Friends,” Eldest says in his very best grandfather voice, “nay, family.”

The Feeders around me sigh, and the women rub their bellies and smile at their men.

“I have invited you all up here for a very specific reason. First, I wanted to show you the stars.” He sweeps his hand up high and every face follows it, every eye turning to the brightly burning “stars.”

“Do you see the trails that follow the stars?” As Eldest continues, the Feeders nod their heads. “They show how fast our ship is traveling as we soar through space to our new home.”

I glance at Amy, but she’s just staring blankly up at them. I don’t think she’s realized yet that these stars aren’t real. I turn to Harley. Across the room, he’s staring right at me, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He knows this isn’t right.

“As you know, you young ones are the generation that is to land on the surface of Centauri-Earth.” Eldest pauses, gives a dramatically deep sigh. “But, alas, that is not to be.”

Murmurs rise from the crowd. The little red light that indicates Godspeed moves backward on the track, away from Centauri-Earth.

“The engines of our dear Godspeed are tired, friends, and the ship can only go so fast. We were due to land in fifty years.”

“In 49 years, 264 days,” a voice shouts, interrupting him. As one, we all turn to face Harley, who stares at Eldest. His face is pale, the bruise under his eye dark in contrast.

Eldest smiles graciously. “As you say. And within your lifetime, friends. But, I fear, this may not be the case. Planet-landing is beyond the reach of fifty years.”

“When?” Harley says, his voice now softer, scared.

“We must hope, friends, that science lies, and that Centauri-Earth is closer than we’d believed.”