HAPTER FOUR
My mild anxiousness to see Jackson again continued. Not that there was even much time for me to be a little anxious, though. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was eating, or trying to keep my eyes open long enough to take a shower.
On the evening of my fourth day in the hospital, Irene pulled up a chair bedside after I’d gotten into bed to go to sleep for the night. “So... not that you’ve been awake much to do very much thinking, but have you been able to recall any more details about your life?”
Sighing, I shook my head. “No, not really. Sometimes random words or images have been popping into my head, but just for a split second, and then they’re gone almost before I can even really ‘see’ them. It’s more as if they’re just fleeting micro-thoughts that I just can’t quite grab.”
It was true. They’d been driving me absolutely nuts.
After turning on my side in bed to face her, propping a triple stack of pillows beneath my cheek, I continued. “So, since today was another day of me not showing any signs of improvement about this, how about if you just tell me some details about myself like you did with my name.”
Now sighing herself, she shook her head, making her light gray bob swing. “I wish I could. I wish it were that easy. But I don’t know any more than you do, and neither does anyone else, not even Dr. Moore or Commander Jackson.
You see, a very long time ago, when you young women were... well, I’ll say, ‘assisted to rest,’ each of you had a file of papers giving specifics about your life. These files contained everything from date and place of birth, to childhood memories, to favorite foods, to everything in between. Detailed lists of interests, preferences, hobbies, accomplishments, personal relationship histories, you name it, it was in these files, both in an actual paper copy file, and then on a computer hard drive. That way, if any of you had amnesia that didn’t resolve itself a while after thawing, you could be told about yourself.
But all that info didn’t last for long. It was stored in a heavily-fortified building called The Dome not too far from here, but even a heavily-fortified building couldn’t withstand a particularly intense Gorgolian assault. All the files, both hard copy and digital, were destroyed, along with The Dome, which could be rebuilt,and was. But as to the information files, well, of course, they were just gone. And after that, all that was left were the names of you young women inscribed on your tanks.”
I lifted my head off the stack of plush pillows, confused, which was clearly becoming my usual state of being “Tanks?”
She dismissed my question with a wave of one of her small, plump, pink-fingernailed hands. “Oh, I’m sure Commander Wallace will explain all that to you later.”
Something about the way she was suddenly avoiding eye contact with me made me think that she didn’t want to explain the thing about “tanks” herself, like maybe the explanation was something unpleasant or bizarre.
At any rate, she changed the subject quickly, asking me if I could recall even one or two of the words that had been popping into my head when I tried to think about myself and my life before coming to the hospital. “Even if you can remember just one, maybe we can try to ‘expand’ that word in a way and see where that leads us.”
Gazing over her shoulder to the windows and the darkened city sky, which was tinted sort of an indigo-peach shade from the city lights, I thought hard for several moments, cheek resting against the stack of pillows again. “When I try to think of ‘home,’ I feel like I keep thinking of cars for some reason. Just... cars and cars and cars. Old ones, new ones, making them, driving them... I can’t explain it. When I think of ‘home,’ I’m just thinking cars for some reason, even right now. Even this second, I’m having these funny little micro-flashes about cars, like, thoughts that I’m ‘seeing,’ but that are just too quick to fully grab and see closer.”
After a pause, I shifted my gaze from the night sky back to Irene, frustrated. “I know that doesn’t mean anything. Every town and city has cars. I guess the only thing I’ve determined is that I could be from anywhere.”
“Well, not necessarily. Maybe there was something about cars that was special to your town. Some kind of a connection with cars.”
“The Motor City. Where’s the Motor City?”
Those words, Motor City, had hit me like a lightning bolt.
I lifted my face from the stack of pillows so fast I caused a painful twinge in my neck. “Wherever that place is, that’s where I’m from. Cars... cars and manufacturing. Everyone is just so proud of all the cars, a lot of the city’s whole history is about cars. That’s the Motor City.”
With her perfectly-arched gray brows lifted in surprise, Irene responded right away. “Well, from what I remember from the old history books we read in school, I think the Motor City would have officially been a city called Detroit.”
Gasping, I immediately sat up, in disbelief about the rush of information seeming to explode in my brain. “Detroit. That’s my home. We didn’t always live in the city, though. I was born in the city, was an only child, and Dad was an attorney, and Mom worked for a nonprofit teaching kids about art. But then Dad passed away when I was really small, and we moved somewhere else. Somewhere... somewhere that was still Detroit, but it was like... I want to say the place was called West. West with... blooms. Flowers, maybe. A blooming field. I think that’s where we lived then.” “Hmm. So, maybe by a field filled with flowers? Though that doesn’t sound like what I read about Detroit in the history books at all.”
“No... no, I don’t think this was Detroit proper, just by Detroit, maybe. A suburb, I think. West Blooming Flowerfield, it was called. No...” I paused and thought for a few moments, something seeming to click into place in my mind. “West Bloomfield. That’s where I come from... where I spent the older years of my childhood. West Bloomfield, Michigan. It’s a suburb of Detroit. Then, after college, which I went to somewhere in Michigan, I moved back to Detroit proper, and I had a job in the city.”
Hands on knees, Irene was leaning forward in her chair, seeming just as excited as I was. “And what do you remember about that time?”
A few seconds ticked by, and I realized I remembered nothing from that time. Absolutely nothing. Not what my job had been, not anything about the neighborhood I’d lived in, not who any of my friends had been. Not if I’d had a boyfriend or not. I just couldn’t remember a single thing. Disappointed, I told Irene that, but she looked undaunted.
“Well, let’s go back, then. Do you remember anything specific about your parents, other than their occupations?”
I shook my head, feeling as if some floodgate that had been opened in my mind was suddenly closing. “No, I... I’m not remembering anything else. It’s as if it all just suddenly stopped for some reason.”
Propping her chin up with a fist, Irene frowned. I covered a yawn, quickly becoming tired once again. Irene told me to lie down, and I did.
After getting up to shut off a small overhead light, she sat back down by my bedside. “No more trying to remember anything further for today. You’ve already made wonderful progress. And I think you’re getting physically stronger, too. I think you’ll be ready to head on out of here and get settled into your guest quarters tomorrow, and my granddaughter Celeste will help you with all that and show you around.
And so, because of that, I just want to say... well, this is difficult. I love my granddaughter dearly, with all my heart, but I want to give you a word of warning about her. I think you might be good for each other in some ways, and I think you could both use a good friend, for sure, but you’re going to have to watch yourself around her.”
“Why?”
“Well, she’ll try to get you to do dangerous things. And you have to be prepared to just say no.”
I wasn’t quite sure what Irene was implying, but I thought I had a clue.
“Well, what kinds of dangerous things do I have to be prepared to say no to? Do you mean like... like, drugs? Does Celeste have an addiction problem or something?”
Irene chuckled, though the sound wasn’t a happy one. “Well, no, it’s nothing like that. Although at times, I do think she’s addicted to getting high in a certain way, perhaps. You see, she can be rational and mature about certain things at certain times, I suppose, but she’s a thrill-seeker. She’s kind of a renegade. Sometimes I think she’s ahead of her time for a young woman, and I mean that in two different ways, meaning too late for what the past once was and too early for what the future might eventually be... Like she’s stuck in the middle in an era where she just doesn’t quite fit. But then, other times, I think she’s just twenty-three going on fifteen. Other times I think she’ll just outgrow it all.”
“What’s ‘all?’”
“Oh... Well, you’ll see. Celeste will undoubtedly try to get you to do things like run up all the thousands of steps in The Arch here, instead of taking the elevator, because that’s part of how the men train to increase their strength and endurance, even though shifters already have greatly increased strength and endurance over regular men, even while in human form. Celeste will try to get you to train on the stairs with her in an attempt to prove that women can be strong, too. She’ll also try to get you to shoot guns and practice archery with her, because if the Gorgolians ever attack the city, she wants to help the men in the defense. Which is, well, I guess I don’t really get that. No sense in doing something dangerous like handling bows and arrows and guns when I’m sure the men will have everything very much under control.
See, Celeste wants glory, and heroism, and renown, like the men. She does want to become a wife and mother someday, but she’s never been content to look forward to only those things. Nor has she ever been content to take up any worthwhile, non-dangerous career like nursing, or teaching. No, she always has to be running up stairs, or trying to hit a target with an arrow, or trying to get inside information about the next Gorgolian attack. She’s just not content to sit back and let the men do it all.”
I didn’t answer right away. “Well, that doesn’t seem terribly unreasonable to me.”
Irene frowned. “Oh, don’t you start, too. I arranged to have Celeste show you around a bit because I thought you might be a good influence on her. Don’t play into her hands. Just try to have a good time and a few laughs with her and enjoy yourselves. No shooting.”
“Well, once I get past all my sleepiness, I’m sure I’ll be up for some fun and laughs.”
“Well, I don’t think Celeste will disappoint you, there. She does have her little stubborn and determined streak, but she’s not all seriousness, by any means. Tell her the story of when Commander Wallace saw you with a full belly in the lounge, and what you said, and just watch Celeste laugh herself silly.”
“Oh, God, the lounge incident. That whole embarrassment.”
“Oh, tell Celeste all about it. She’ll make you think it was the funniest thing in the whole world.”
I liked Celeste already.
Soon Irene left the room, and after a short while spent kicking myself for forgetting to ask her when Jackson might be back in the city, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
***
The next day, I woke up feeling actually refreshed and not drowsy at all for the first time during my entire stay. Which was good, since I was being discharged from the hospital to start my new life, whatever the heck that would be.
Irene and the other nurses, who’d treated me like an absolute queen over the previous several days, had a little party in the lounge for me, complete with chocolate cake, streamers, and pop music playing on the radio. It sounded an awful lot like the pop music I was used to hearing, except the music didn’t sound as electronic and computerized somehow, and the vocals didn’t have a trace of auto-tune. I liked it.
One of the nurses, a red-haired woman named Liz, mentioned that I’d probably be finding some things about living in the UFS very familiar, and similar to what I was used to, but other things radically different. “For one thing, our technology is far more advanced in some areas than what you’re probably used to, like for example, vehicles now drive hovering several feet above the roads. It’s more economical that way, because the roads only have to be repaired very occasionally. But other things, like pop music, food, and clothing, you might find those almost the same as what you’re used to. Which might seem funny to you. That would be the case because after the Great War, people kind of clung to the old styles and ways for a certain sense of security and I guess that has kind of endured.
Every now and again, some new fashion or food will become all the rage, but then everyone just seems to revert back to things that were the norm before the war. Even the couple of thousand actors and directors who make movies and TV shows tend to make them in a style fairly similar to movies and shows that were popular pre-war.”
After the party, Irene said she’d escort me from the hospital to an apartment where I’d now be staying, since Celeste couldn’t be found. “Probably off shooting her damn bow and arrow somewhere.”
Once I’d changed into a pair of jeans and a plain, long-sleeved, cream-colored top Irene had brought me, we exited the long hospital hallway through double doors and stepped into an elevator bay. I was ready, though I didn’t even exactly know what I was ready for. Something different, something new, maybe. Some surroundings that weren’t the hospital.
On our way up, Irene explained that the top floors of The Arch were reserved for very important people, such as Commander Wallace’s generals and their families, and Commander Wallace himself.
“And you, too, of course, my dear. You’ll be staying in a luxurious apartment just one floor beneath Commander Wallace’s penthouse on the seventieth, the very top floor.” With her honey-brown eyes sparkling, she paused, studying my face. “That way, the two of you can visit each other very easily.”
My face flamed. I had some serious questions about those “visits,” and all the nonsense Irene had said days earlier about me having a baby with Jackson. It sounded so outlandish and strange that I wondered if it was possible that in my sleepy haze, I’d just misheard or misunderstood her. But something told me that I hadn’t, and I knew I needed to get some answers about everything. But just then, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened.
While we exited into some kind of a lobby full of people, Irene spoke in a low voice. “This is where we transfer to the private elevator that only goes to the VIP apartments. People are going to look at you; they’re just curious. Just smile your pretty pearly smile, and you’ll be just fine.”
As we crossed the wide, long lobby, where at least a hundred people of all different ages seemed to be waiting for other elevators, I did smile, and received many smiles in return. The buzz of conversation soon seemed to hush a bit, and I was able to hear a female voice whispering from somewhere to my right.
“Gorgeous, of course. She’ll have Commander Wallace eating right out of her hand, baby or no.”
Even while a little thrill of something indefinable rippled through me, I realized I really needed some answers about this whole baby thing, and immediately.
Once we’d crossed the packed lobby, Irene and I boarded an elevator flanked by two tall, muscular men wearing the same kind of all-black uniform that Jackson wore. Wordlessly, they stepped aside to let us pass, both of them dipping their heads in a courteous nod before resuming their previous positions, gazes up and forward and hands clasped behind their backs.
A short while later, we exited the elevator and walked down a short, white marble-floored hallway to a heavy wooden door surrounded by lush green potted plants in gilded urns.
Irene opened the door and gestured for me to head on in. “Welcome home.”
I stepped inside and gasped. When she’d said my apartment would be “luxurious,” she hadn’t been kidding. A marble-floored foyer opened up into a living room with high, gold-framed windows, vaulted ceilings dripping with glittering chandeliers, and two large fireplaces bigger than any I’d ever seen.
Several small tables around the room appeared to be groaning under the weight of massive fresh flower arrangements in multifaceted crystal vases that sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Or, maybe the vases were made out of pure diamond. It wouldn’t have surprised me.
Though, despite all this opulence, there was something about this living room that actually struck me as cozy. On one side of the spacious, but not too spacious, room, a long French blue couch and several overstuffed chairs had been grouped around one of the fireplaces. A polished coffee table piled with books, and a few honey-colored wooden end tables holding small lamps completed the homey-looking scene. It struck me as being like a living-room-within-a-living-room of sorts.
Still standing in the foyer, I turned to Irene, smiling. “Can we take a tour of the whole apartment?”
She smiled back and started to say what sounded like “sure,” but the word was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing.
“One moment, dear. Just let me get this.” She answered and listened for several moments before responding. “Oh, yes, Commander Wallace, she’s right here. I’m getting her settled into her new apartment right now.” After a long pause, Irene continued. “Well, yes, I think she’d love a visit from you. Five minutes, did you say? I’ll make sure to be gone by then, so you two can get right to it.”
*
Irene soon pocketed her phone, already backing up to the door. “You’ll find a brand-new wardrobe in your bedroom, makeup, jewelry, everything you could ever need, including a cellphone, which I’ve already programmed with Commander Wallace’s, Celeste’s, and my numbers. Oh, and just press one for your own personal maid, and two for your cook, and they’ll both come running. Let me know if you need anything else at all, and I’ll come running, too. Enjoy your visit with Commander Wallace.”
For some reason, I wanted to tell Irene to just wait a minute, but before I could even get the words out, she’d backed through the doorway and had closed the door with a winky little smile.
I just stood for several moments, wondering what I should do. It didn’t make much sense to start on a tour of the place when Jackson would be arriving very soon. But at the same time, I’d feel stupid just standing at the door for several minutes just waiting for his knock. Ultimately, after a minute or two, I decided to head over to the living-room-within-a-living-room, have a seat on the couch, and thumb through a book while I waited.
But before I even made it halfway there, a fairly loud, confident-sounding knock sounded at the door. I froze, then ambled back over slowly, smoothing a few strands of flyaway hair, not wanting to answer the door too quickly, lest he think I had been standing by the door waiting for him the whole time. Despite the fact that, of course, I just about had been.
After a deep breath, I answered the door, trying to prepare myself for the butterflies that I knew would erupt in my stomach the moment I saw Jackson. There was really no preparing, however. There was no avoiding the butterflies, anyway. It felt like a thousand of them began flapping there wings all at once the moment I saw his near-unbelievably handsome face.
Suddenly warm-faced and feeling inexplicably shy, I managed to greet him without looking away from his navy blue eyes. “Hello.”
A bit of a grin curving his full lips told me that maybe I wasn’t the only one experiencing a few stomach flutters.
“Hi. May I come in?”
I nodded and stepped aside while he entered, then somewhat awkwardly led him through the foyer and over to the cozy part of the living room to sit down. It simply felt strange to usher a guest into a room that I myself hadn’t been in yet.
Jackson held two large paper cups with lids, and when we’d both had a seat on the French blue couch, he handed me one. “Light roast, one cream, one sugar, and one pump of vanilla syrup.”
Earlier, at my hospital-discharge party, I’d recalled just how I liked my coffee. And that way was just as Jackson had described.
I took the cup from him, smiling. “Thank you. Are you a psychic, or did you ask Irene exactly how I like my coffee?”
He now grinned a bit bigger than he had at the door. “Well, as impressive as it might be to claim psychic powers, I’m afraid I must admit that I only used good old-fashioned detective work in determining your coffee preferences. I did ask Irene.”
For the first little while, our visit was nice. We bantered a bit and discussed our respective coffee preferences. Jackson liked his coffee black, no sweetener of any kind, no flavorings, no cream or milk, no anything. Which, for some reason, didn’t surprise me. A bold, straightforward choice suited him.
Little by little, as Jackson told me about some of the various coffeehouses and restaurants located within The Arch, my butterflies seemed to settle down a bit, the sensation becoming replaced by a feeling of all-over warmth, from my head to my toes. Part of this warmth might have been the result of covert little peeks I was taking at his body, specifically his long, muscular thighs, which were no more than a foot away from my legs.
When he’d visited me in the hospital, because of the height of my bed and the guard rails, I really hadn’t been able to see his thighs very well, or fully appreciate what a pleasant experience glancing at them at them was.
But once we’d nearly finished our coffee, I realized I had some questions to ask, starting with just what exactly had happened to me to make me wake up freezing cold and completely devoid of memory in a hospital, and ending with why exactly Irene had said I was to have a child with him. I set my coffee cup on an end table before facing Jackson again, not really knowing how to begin. Fortunately, he seemed to sense this and spoke first.
“You have some questions, no doubt.”
I nodded, relieved. “Yes. I’m sure Irene has already told you that I’ve remembered a few things about who I am, and where I come from, but I’m nowhere even close to remembering everything. And there are two major things I need to know. The first is why I woke up with amnesia, and nearly freezing to death, and the second is... Well...” Swallowing, I trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed, or maybe anxious, or a strange blend of both. “Well, First question first, I guess. What in the heck happened to me?”
With his lazy grin now long gone, Jackson set his cup on the coffee table and turned to face me on the couch, putting one well-muscled arm on the back of it. “You’ve been waiting so patiently, and you don’t deserve to wait a second longer to hear the answer to that question.
You were put under sedation and then cryogenically frozen over three centuries ago. You were one of only a few hundred women on earth proven by medical testing to be completely fertile. You were one of only a few hundred women on earth who were completely unaffected by the nuclear blast.
For reasons not even the most brilliant scientific minds of the day could figure out, and our top scientists still don’t understand it. But that’s why you were frozen—because of your fertility.”
I sat mute for a long moment or two, just trying to wrap my mind around what he’d said. “So-so, was I forced to be frozen or something?”
“No. It was completely your choice, as it was for all the women who were frozen. Once the tests were conducted on every last adult female still left on earth, ones deemed fertile were told that they might be the key to saving all of humanity and ensuring that the human race would endure.
However, another group of women, a group of thousands, had been deemed ‘possibly fertile,’ essentially meaning, ‘possibly able to conceive, though likely not without great difficulty.’ Some of the scientists thought it might be wise to initially leave the task of reproduction up to this group. And for the future, try to freeze as many ‘completely fertile’ women as possible in preparation for a possible population crisis at some point later on.
But, in the end, it was strictly voluntary. Some of the fertile women wanted to remain with their families and loved ones, and understandably so, particularly women who were in long-term relationships. Women who were married or who already had children at the time weren’t even asked to consider being frozen, for obvious reasons.
So, many of the ‘completely fertile’ women remained unfrozen, and they, together with the ‘possibly fertile’ women, began working to repopulate the earth after the disaster. And, in the years since then, the population has been slowly increasing, little by little, decade by decade.”
“Then why were the frozen women ever unfrozen? Why was I unfrozen?”
From somewhere out in the opposite side of the spacious, sunlit living room, a grandfather clock began chiming the hour, and Jackson waited for it to stop before continuing.
“Over the past several years, the women of this nation have been experiencing fertility troubles, and none of our top scientists and doctors can figure out why. And while they continue to try to figure it out and come up with a solution, we, of course, can’t let the human race die out.
That’s why it was decided a year or so ago that we had to start trying to bring the frozen women back, including yourself. To bring you back, though, I wanted to wait a little while. I wanted the doctors to have the most experience that they could possibly have with thawing before they attempted to unfreeze you. You were actually the last frozen woman to be thawed.”
“Why?”
Looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, Jackson didn’t respond right away. “We have a time machine here in DC, in the building we call The Dome. It has its limitations, such as only being able to transport one person, every year or so, because of the different energies and calibrations it requires, but despite its limitations it’s nothing short of miraculous. It can transport a person back in time; it can even transport a person to a parallel universe.
And after they’ve been transported, for several weeks while they still hold the energies from the process in their bodies, a person can even travel right back here if they so choose. When our fertility crisis hit here in the UFS, which was about the same time I began to realize that I needed to get started on producing an heir, I used this time machine to travel back to the time period not long after the nuclear blast.
I went to the place where all the fertile women were being lodged until they each decided if they wanted to be frozen or not. And on the day that each woman had to state her choice and then submit to being sedated and frozen, I went into the hall to observe. All of the other women seemed hesitant and indecisive, and there were many women who decided to back out of being frozen at the last minute.
But not you. You marched right up to the head scientist in charge and said that you were completely committed and your mind was completely made up. You said you wanted to be frozen for the good of humanity.
You seemed so bold and confident... You looked completely fearless. You all but demanded that you be frozen. And that’s when I made a decision of my own. I decided that you were the one .That’s why I purchased you to bear my child. I knew you were the most courageous and the gutsiest of all the women. You were certainly the most beautiful. By miles.”
With my stomach suddenly twisting into knots, I slowly recoiled from Jackson, actually scooting back an inch or two on the couch. “Wait a second. Please back up. Did I hear you correctly? Did you actually say that you ‘purchased’ me to bear your child?”
He grimaced, raking his large hands over his face. “It wasn’t as bad as you make it sound... I had to purchase you. You see, after the freezing process had started for the women who’d chosen it, the scientists decided that any specific women could be ‘claimed’ for the future by any family or childless man willing to pay them a certain sum of gold.
But, being that the world was in quite a state of disarray at this point, not many could afford to do so; but being that I’d traveled back in time, I could. And because I wanted to make certain that you would be the woman to bear my child now, in the modern day, I did.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by. I stared down Jackson with my arms folded across my chest. He looked apologetic, and that expression seemed sincere, but it wasn’t good enough. Suddenly, I was mad. Suddenly, I was so angry that I was beginning to tremble. I spoke my next words in a voice that held a faint tremor as well.
“So... basically, you bought me like a piece of meat to come here, have sex with you, and have your child, in exchange for room and board in a fancy apartment. There are words for women who engage in these types of arrangements, you know.”
Jackson grimaced again, looking increasingly agitated. “You make it sound so ugly.”
“And in what way would you advertise the arrangement you want? ‘Come to the United Free States! Rent out your womb to a man you barely even know! Rent your womb to a man who’s basically already purchased it! It’s a beautiful, romantic thing!’”
At that moment, Jackson lifted a hand and began moving it toward my face. And the second I saw this movement, the very split-second, I flinched for some reason, immediately turning my face down and to the side. Expecting what, I really didn’t even know.
When a long moment or two went by without whatever I’d apparently subconsciously thought might happen, happening, I slowly lifted my face to look at Jackson. I saw him frowning, frowning so hard his dark brows were nearly touching, in fact. His expression was one of a person deeply disturbed and maybe even a little incredulous.
I had no idea what to say, so I was relieved when he spoke first, in a low voice almost near a whisper.
“I was going to brush that strand of hair out of your face and tell you that our arrangement can be a beautiful thing. It could be. What did you think I was going to do? Did you think I was going to hit you?”
I shook my head, heart racing. “I don’t know. I—”
“Did you actually think I was going to hit you?”
“I-I guess I must have. It was just a reflex. I’m-I’m sorry.”
Jackson studied my face briefly before responding. “You apologize far too much, Vivian, and for things you shouldn’t feel sorry about.”
For some reason, his words caused a funny little ache in my chest, and I couldn’t respond. But then, the anger took over once again.
I jumped up from the couch, fighting to keep my voice at a semi-normal volume and not a shout. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you pay for a woman who wouldn’t ever feel sorry about anything? Sorry to disappoint you.”
Heaving a sigh, Jackson now got up from the couch as well. “We can work through this. We can talk more when we’ve both had a chance to cool down a little. And then—”
“Oh, I’ve been ‘cool’ enough for a thousand lifetimes. I was cryogenically frozen, remember? And as far as talking, I’m done. I just want to go back home. And in fact, I’m demanding that you lend me a car so that I can go back home to Detroit right now. Everyone I ever knew there may be dead and gone, but at least I’ll be back in my own city.”
Surprising me, Jackson’s expression of complete exasperation changed to one of clear pity, and he spoke in a low, soft voice.
“Detroit doesn’t even exist anymore; it hasn’t for hundreds of years. The global nuclear blast killed most of the inhabitants, and the few hundred survivors went to different cities. Detroit is nothing but a vast, empty swath of rusted metal and powdered concrete today.”
For the second time in as many minutes, I felt an ache in my chest. Even while I simultaneously felt some wild urge to deny or disprove what Jackson had said.
“Well... Well, if that’s true that Detroit doesn’t even exist anymore, then where do people get cars now? One of the nurses today told me that still exist; they’re just a bit different. And Irene told me that, basically, only North America survived the nuclear blast, so I know all the cars nowadays can’t be made in Japan or Europe.”
“All the nation’s cars are manufactured in Chicago now, which is a small city of about seventy thousand people.”
The Motor City was dead. I couldn’t believe it; I didn’t want to. But at the same time, Jackson’s sincere expression of sympathy wouldn’t let me deny it any longer. And now I felt tears prickling behind my eyelids. It was all just too much. Knowing that I’d been frozen in a cryogenic tank for hundreds of years; having amnesia; knowing that I’d been bought; and now, finding out that the place I’d once called home didn’t even exist anymore.
I wanted to tell Jackson to just please leave, but with him standing in front of me with his broad, muscular chest at about my eye level, I realized I was struggling with wanting to tell him to do something else. I was struggling with wanting to tell him to hold me. For some reason, I wanted to let my tears flow freely with my face against his chest, and with the strength of his strong arms wrapped around me.
However, almost the instant I realized I wanted to do this, I dismissed the idea. He’d purchased me. I hadn’t forgotten about that. I hadn’t forgotten that I was basically just a rent-a-womb to him.
And so, blinking back my tears, I folded my arms across my chest for the second time during our visit. “I think I’d like you to leave. I may not know much about myself right now, Jackson, but I know that I don’t like being treated like a piece of property. I don’t like being treated like an object. I will not be your womb-for-hire. Or purchase. Or whatever. So please just go.”
Searching my face, he seemed to be conflicted about what to do, so I repeated myself, asking him to please just go, trying to keep my voice as even and steady and clear, no easy feat considering I had a giant lump in my throat. And after searching my face a second or two longer, he did as I’d asked. So I couldn’t understand why, after he’d shut the door behind him, I burst into tears and covered my face with my hands, feeling as if my heart were breaking.