To the Garden of Eden
As she approaches the glittering dome – it looks like one of those modern, high-efficiency, low-maintenance greenhouses she has always wanted but never been able to afford – Francesca notices something that had been lingering at the back of her mind.
Perhaps literally, she thinks
. Ever since she had awoken, there had been this faint but strange sensation… the pulsation of different strings, each vibrating at different rates yet somehow joining together in harmony.
In synchronization. When Donna died, Francesca thought she had felt one of the strings snap and fall silent. But she was not sure. In the chaotic aftermath, in that mad scramble for the door, she thought that she had imagined it. The vibrations had grown weaker when they descended in the cage – all but two – and now, when drawing closer to the dome, grown stronger once more.
Except this time, it has become clear that there is one less string than before the descent.
Francesca cannot help but feel uneasy. She looks at Caitlyn’s back, wondering if she has noticed it.
“Noticed what?” Caitlyn stops and asks, turning to look over her shoulder.
“The… vibrations,” Francesca says.
Caitlyn taps her head lightly. “I think I know what you mean. They aren’t content with just controlling our bodies, they want to control our minds too! Ignore it, Francesca. It has no power over you unless you let it.”
Francesca rather thinks it could be a manifestation of the Holy Spirit instead – communion is much easier if you take your daily supplement of nutritious organic lentil fiber pellets! – but seeing Caitlyn’s frown upon hearing those thoughts, leaves it unsaid. This is not going to be a very easy partnership.
Finally, thirsty and hungry and more than a little sweaty, they arrive at the dome. Up close, they find that the glass is thick and translucent; they are unable to make out anything within the dome. Caitlyn bravely walks up to the sturdy glass wall, running her hand over its smooth curvature. She raps it with her knuckles. “Leave it to men to objectify women by building a glass tit,” she complains. “There’s no escaping sexism, is there?”
There is the familiar crackle of the speakers, drawing the attention of the two women towards a glass door almost seamlessly set into the wall. A panel recesses, revealing yet another monitor. Music begins to play. It is Beyonce again, and this time, the song echoing around the jungle is:
Run The World (Girls).
BEYOND THIS DOOR LIES SALVATION. WITHIN THE DOME, YOU WILL FIND ENOUGH FOOD, WATER AND SHELTER TO LAST YOU A LIFETIME.
ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO GAIN ENTRY IS TO ANSWER A SIMPLE QUESTION. AN ANSWER THAT THE BOTH OF YOU AGREE ON.
THEN THE DOOR TO THE GARDEN OF EDEN WILL OPEN.
ARE YOU READY? THE QUESTION IS…. DRUM ROLL…
OH, AND BY THE WAY, THE CHANGE IN MUSIC IS MAKING THE INHABITANTS OF THE FOREST REALLY EXCITABLE. THEY ARE GETTING QUITE EAGER TO MEET YOU.
As if to cap off the monitor’s message, the bushes begin to rustle with movement.
---
Group Choice (Caitlyn & Francesca)
A. Girls
B. God
C. The patriarchy
D. The matriarchy
E. The kyriarchy
F. We
G. Big Business
H. America
I. Dinosaurs
J. Jews
K. The Illuminati
L. You
M. We don’t know
N. Something else besides these choices
***
Benton runs down the corridor, muttering “Fuck this” and “Fuck that” and “Fuck y’all” as he goes. He had parted ways with Edgar acrimoniously: first they had disagreed on where to go, with the homeless man grumbling something about food and pointing at the route to the cafeteria repeatedly, and then, when they failed to come to an agreement, Edgar had just run off by himself.
He don’t trust me, do he? Well fuck him too! I don’t need him? I’mma survive on my own. Don’t need no old fuck to get in my way neither.
On his part, Benton had decided to make for the swimming pool. He is not entirely sure why himself, but perhaps Aaron’s blood, still staining his tee, plays a part. “Gotta wash it, right? Gonna set in, gonna be a bitch to get out,” he mutters. Then there was that matter of the scratching that he heard behind him…
As he rounds the corner, he finds himself in front of the swimming pool at last. It is a large pool, Olympic-sized, by Benton’s estimates. An acrid, sterile smell – chlorine – permeates the air. There is a row of black lockers lining the far wall, looking disturbingly like coffins from this distance. The tiles surrounding the pool are wet and slightly stained with the colour of rust. The water in the pool is a little cloudy. It is disgusting, but not as much as the thing floating at the center of the pool: a bloated, naked facsimile of a human, all pale and blubbery and swollen in all the wrong places, bobbing up and down, face up. “That’s nasty shit. That some downright fucked up nasty shit, man,” Benton shakes his head, revolted by the sight. He is not sure if it is a real corpse, but he does not want to find out.
Jump in and find out. Yo nigger gotta drooooooown~
Benton blinks. Did he just think that? Or…
The monitor’s message interrupts his thoughts.
IN THE CENTER OF THE POOL THERE IS A DEAD WOMAN. SHE LOST HER PARENTS TO CANCER, HER HUSBAND TO ANOTHER WOMAN, AND HER CHILDREN TO DRUGS.
UNABLE TO FACE HER REALITY, SHE DECIDED TO FLEE. TO THIS SWIMMING POOL.
SO HERE SHE FLOATS FOR ETERNITY. DOWN HERE, WE ALL FLOAT. HA HA HA. HA.
WITHIN HER MOUTH LIES A KEY.
Benton squints. He can barely make out a glinting, metal object poking out of the swollen, black tongue. It
could be a key.
THAT KEY WILL OPEN ONE OF THE LOCKERS AROUND THE POOL. WITHIN, YOU WILL FIND SOMETHING THAT WILL BE USEFUL TO YOU.
BUT TO GET IT… YOU MUST FIRST FLOAT.
---
Benton’s Choice:
A. You get the pink and yellow duckie swim ring and jump in. It might be demeaning, and the ring looks a bit too small for you, but it is also the safest way.
B. You get the inflatable banana boat and paddle over to the center. It might not be all too stable, but it’s better than using a swim ring.
C. You don’t need no flotation device. You a strong nigga, even if you never dipped your toes in anything more than knee-deep water all your life. You try to swim over to the corpse without a float.
***
Edgar hunches over in the cafeteria, chewing on his ragged fingernails as he tries to ignore the faint scratching both outside the door and inside his head. It is not like any cafeteria he has ever seen. Nothing like this, no. Not even during the war. He looks at the message given to him, on the multiple monitors placed all over the cafeteria.
THIS IS THE CAFETERIA OF BROKEN DREAMS. HARDLY AS PRESTIGIOUS, BUT TWICE AS USEFUL.
HERE, YOU PAY FOR ITEMS WITH RINGS. THESE RINGS ARE MEANT TO BE WORN ON YOUR RIGHT HAND, IF YOU ARE MALE, AND ON YOUR LEFT, IF YOU ARE FEMALE.
Edgar has seen the rings – there is a cardboard box full of them. They are large and adjustable, with inward-facing spikes. He has seen the vending machines too: they contain a variety of items from food to weapons to medicine, and there is a small, round hole where you would usually expect the money to go. The hole is roughly the size of a finger.
INSERT THE RING-WEARING FINGER INTO THE SLOT TO SCAN FOR PAYMENT. ONCE PAYMENT IS EXACTED FROM THE FINGER, YOUR ITEM WILL BE DELIVERED, BUT ONLY IF THE FINGER WAS ON THE CORRECT HAND.
YOU ARE LIMITED TO FIVE ITEMS PER CUSTOMER, AND EACH CUSTOMER MAY NOT PURCHASE A PARTICULAR ITEM MORE THAN ONCE.
WE LOOK FORWARD TO DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU AGAIN!
---
Edgar’s Choice:
A. Buy 0 items.
B. Buy 1 item.
C. Buy 2 items.
D. Buy 3 items.
E. Buy 4 items.
F. Buy 5 items.
---
Item List:
Vote for up to five items. The number of top voted items selected will depend on the previous option.
I. Military rations (3 packs).
II. Sandwiches (6 pieces).
III. Potatoes (1 sack).
IV. Filet mignon (1 piece).
V. Bottled water (6 bottles).
VI. Beer (6 pack).
VII. Vodka (1 bottle).
VIII. Cabernet Sauvignon (1 glass).
IX. First aid kit (1 box).
X. Cold medicine (1 bottle).
XI. Morphine (1 bottle).
XII. Baseball bat (1 bat)
XIII. Hunting knife (1 knife)
XIV. Machete (1 machete)
XV. Pistol (17 rounds)
XVI. Chainsaw (full tank)
