After: Nineteen Stories of Apocalypse and Dystopia

Here, in this village, there are two girls who are my age, in their sixteenth or seventeenth year. They have no tattoos. No one has tattoos. Romas don’t have their line on their arms. They are outside of the Way. I look at the girls in a respectful manner, with my eyes down. Their features are different than the girls and women I know. One of the girls is shy. She looks at her feet and hides her face behind her hair. The other girl, who is more homely, comes up to me. She looks at me in my eyes, which makes me feel strange. As though she is looking right inside of me. No one looks at anyone like that. It is disturbing, but I take it to be another of the strange ways of the Romas. She motions for me to follow her, and she shows me to a small shack where I will sleep. From her pocket she pulls out a red thing. She polishes it on her shirt and hands it to me. Then she takes one out for herself and begins to eat it. I have never seen something like it. I sniff it and smell a faint pleasant perfume. I bite into it. It is not soft, but hard, yet it is juicy and it makes my tongue feel alive.

“Good?” she asks.

“Good,” I say.

“Minerve,” she says, extending her hand in what I know to be a Romas grip. It is a greeting among them. We of the Way usually do not touch one another, but I extend my hand and touch hers. It feels electric.

“Geo,” I say.

She smiles. I notice that her eyes are green. I have never seen green eyes.

As she goes she closes the door behind me and leaves me to my preparations.

This town is so far out of the Way that there is no feast. Minerve comes back later and brings me a plate of food. Everything on the plate looks strange. Some of it I do not care for. But most of it is alive with flavor. When I am done eating, I feel full in a way that I have never felt before.

I begin my preparations. I will have to give them all a tattoo. I must choose a color and enter it into the book. I consult the charts. I notice that red has faded out a long time ago; it has not been used for more than fifty years. It makes me think that orange and brown will go that way soon, too, unless things change. But red has been gone for so long that it will be safe to give this town red. I am allowed to be with red. I like Minerve. Would it be wrong to make her a line that I can seed? I blush. But still, I settle down in my room to mix the color. If the girls are three for four, then I will give this town the color red.

The next morning, Minerve comes, and I am given breakfast. Once again there are things I have never seen before.

“What is this?” I lift up my food.

“Pan,” she says.

“Pan,” I say.

It is like eating a cloud.

A bell rings, and the other girl, the shy one, comes to my hut, along with all of the villagers. Everyone in town is outside my hut and the whole town amounts to no more than sixteen people. I understand now why the Counter has a ceremony and a script. It is too stressful to do this without a script. I take the first girl’s finger and prick it. Everyone lurches forward to see as I put the blood on the machine. It whirs, it clicks. It buzzes four times red. Everyone is still. We all breathe as one as I take Minerve’s finger. I look up at her. I must look like hope. But I feel fear. A drop of blood blooms on her finger. I place it in the machine. It whirs. It clicks. The first code comes up green.

AGGCTTACACCG

My heart lifts. I touch her knee.

The second sequence comes up green. I smile at her. My heart feels warm.

The third sequence comes up red. I squeeze her knee. The whole town is holding their breath. It could still be okay; she might just be three for four, like me. If so, then Paters will come. She will be seeded. The town will be allowed to trade. With birds, they will likely be rich.

The fourth sequence comes up red.

No one speaks. Someone gasps. There is a sob. Even the Romas know what that means. They will not be a part of the Way. I shake the machine, as though if I shake it, it will become green.

The man who guided me up the mountain suggests that we all have a meal together that evening and a good night’s sleep before we go back down so that I can join the others. The townsfolk disperse. Minerve stays.

“You should go,” I say. “I’m tired.”

“You are upset,” she says.

I had optimistically mixed the color to tattoo the village. I had ignored the protocol of wait and see. I am still learning, and now I understand that these rules are made to avoid disappointment.

I do not want her to make fun of my emotions. I am tired of people making fun of my sensitivity.

“Is it so terrible to be upset?” I yell. I kick the color pot on the ground. I want to smash the machine. But instead I yell again.

“It’s okay, Geo,” Minerve says. “We will go on as before, without the Way. It will just be our way.”

But we all know that the Romas numbers are dwindling. That is why in the past ten years Romas are trying to make towns and join the Way.

She comes over to me and touches my tattoos. She traces them with her fingers.

“Beautiful,” she says.

I go over to the pot. There is still some red in it. I take the needle from its pouch and I tattoo a red mark on her. I just want to see how the red will look on skin, since I have never seen it. When I have done a large enough circle on her shoulder for it to be noticeable, I stop. I cover it up with a bandage. She puts a hand on my cheek.

No one will be able to see the mark unless she is not wearing a shirt. I have not given her a false line. I have just given her a decoration that will be our secret.

I am suddenly very tired. I go to the corner and lay down on the bed. Minerve comes and lays down next to me and puts her arms around me. No one has ever held me. It is the most me that I have ever felt. I hold her like something known but long forgotten. I fall asleep.

A bell rings and the meal begins. It is modest, not a celebration. There is no pomp and glamour. I do not feel like wearing my red robe and yellow scarf. I wear my simple underclothes, and they make me feel more at home than in Sandig. There is a bird for a meal and a husk. I watch as the others open their husks. I have seen these kinds of husks before, but no one bothers with them. Where I am from, there is no part of it to eat. Just a white cone. But these husks are different: I notice that there are yellow insides. Minerve shows me how to bite into it, and it is sweet and earthy. When the yellow is eaten, all that is left is the white cone that I have seen before.

Later, as the town sleeps, I lie awake. I think about the babe in the town that we put down. I think about how if Minerve had been in the Way, she would have been put down too. I think about the birds. I think about the husks. I think that this town has something more than the sequence, more than our code, and that it must be saved. I cannot sleep. I want to wander outside and find Minerve. I want her to hold me again, but I know that is wrong. I close my eyes, my mind abuzz. When I do sleep, my dreams are vivid and wild. I dream of Minerve. I dream of the birds. I dream of the husks and the green.

In the morning, before dawn, my guide comes to get me. I notice that Minerve is with him. He is carrying a pack. He opens it to show me that it is full of gifts that he promised to Jas for my time: strange plants, dead birds, small pots. I nod in thanks. Our business done, Minerve then steps up to me and puts a small bag into my hands. I open it. It is the dried yellow parts from the husks we ate. I told her of the land near Sandig, where the fields are full but there are only empty cones inside.

“Will you walk with me?” I ask.

“I am glad to,” she says.

On our way down the mountain we talk of everything and anything we can think of, because it will be our only conversation. We stop and stare at the ruined buildings, and I am glad that she reaches for my hand. Outside of the gates of the town, Minerve and the guide stop and converse. She takes the pack from him, and he stays while Minerve walks me all the way to the gate. Once there, I put my arms around her. I wish I could say that I will see

Jas and the others know by my face that the town will not join the Way. We gather our things to leave. This