Across the Universe

“Yes,” I say. “Come on.” I grab her wrist and pull her into the common room. Many of the mental patients are inside, dark looks on their faces, anger in their eyes.

Amy grimaces. I look down at her wrists and see greenish-purple bruises staining her pale skin.

“Did I do this?” I ask, gently lifting her wrist up for closer inspection.

“No,” Amy says simply.

The bruises are old, anyway, at least a day or more. “What happened?”

“Some men pinned me down,” Amy says. “But it’s okay.”

My heart thuds. “Some men pinned you down? And it’s okay?”

“Yes.”

“B-but—” I splutter.

Amy blinks up at me, as if she cannot fathom why anything is worth this much emotion.

“You don’t care, do you?” I ask.

“About what?”

“About… about anything.”

“I care,” Amy says, but her voice sounds bored.

“Do you remember when you got these bruises?” I wave her limp wrist in front of her face. Her eyes focus on them, then drift away. She nods. “Think about how you felt afterward. What did you do?”

“I remember… crying? But that’s silly. It’s not worth crying about. Everything’s fine.”

I cannot help it. I drop Amy’s wrist, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her. Her head bobbles on her neck. It’s like shaking a doll. And no matter how much I shake, I cannot bring the life back into her eyes.

“What happened to you?” I gasp, letting her go.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m going to find a way to fix you.”

“I’m not broken,” Amy says in a voice as empty as her eyes.

I lead her down the hall, deposit her in her chamber, and tell her not to leave. I have no doubt she will follow my order.

I eventually find Harley on the other side of the pond, tossing rocks into the water.

“What did Eldest whisper to you?” I ask, standing next to him.

He doesn’t look up. “I’m not telling you,” he snarls.

I don’t have time for Harley’s bad mood. “There’s something wrong with Amy.”

Harley’s head whips up. “What is it?”

“She’s… she’s acting like the Feeders do.”

Harley turns back to the pond. “Oh.” Then: “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were all okay with not landing, didn’t you notice? It’s only the mental cases like us who were bothered.”

I had noticed. Only Harley, who had seen real stars, protested, but the others at the Ward were abuzz with the news, and they certainly weren’t happy about it.

“It’s to be expected,” I say. “It’s typical that we’re the only ones bothered. It’s why we’re in the Ward, isn’t it? Because we can’t take direction, follow leadership. It’s why we take the Inhibitor meds.” Even as I say it, though, I’m thinking about the couple on the lawn in front of the Recorder Hall, about how they didn’t know love and clearly don’t know grief, either.

“Amy might be happier that way,” Harley says. “I think I’d be happier if I didn’t care about getting off this frexing ship.”

I want to say not to worry, that we’ll land someday, but I know the words are hollow, and no amount of false hope in my voice can fill them up.

“But Amy didn’t start that way. She started out like us. And now she’s like one of the Feeders.”

Harley shrugs. “So? That just means she’s normal. Good for her.”

“But I liked her so much more before,” I say, more to myself than to Harley.

He stands and heads down the path. “I’ll go to the cryo level and stand guard anyway.”

I watch him leave. His words sting because they’re true. I forget sometimes, since I spend so much time at the Ward or alone with Eldest, that most people on the ship are calm, complacent — not insane. Not bothered by things like false stars and delayed landing times. Happier.

Would Amy really be happier if she stayed hollow inside?

Would I be happier if I didn’t have to live with the idea that I’d live all my life encased in a ship?

It doesn’t matter. I know that if Amy was given the choice, she’d never choose this blind ignorance, even if it is bliss. Something—someone—has done this to her, and I’m going to find out who.

55 AMY

I AM SITTING IN MY ROOM.

The door opens.

“What are you doing?” Elder asks.

“I am sitting in my room,” I say.

“What are you looking at?”

“The wall.”

“Why are you looking at the wall?”

Elder asks so many questions.

Elder walks to me. He picks up my hand. His fingers trace my bruises.

“Come with me,” Elder says. I stand up. He walks. I follow.

We walk until we stop.

Elder pushes a button. The door opens. I follow him inside. He takes me to a chair.

I sit.

“Amy,” a deep voice says. I look up and see the doctor. We are in his office. He is sitting at his desk. “What seems to be the problem?”

I blink. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“Everything is not fine!” Elder shouts.

I look at him. “Everything is fine.”

The chair I am sitting in is blue. It is made of hard plastic. The desk is interesting. Everything is placed so neatly on the desk. The pencils are all straight in their cup.