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The Perfectionists

Chapter 7

The Glass Case

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When The Council found out that she and Hal were dating, Hal was called before them again. Not because she was sixteen and he was twenty seven, but because A: there was little chance (zero chance, Hal had assured her wistfully), given the genetic differences between them, that Eve would ever be capable of conceiving and bearing a human child, and the council therefore disapproved of their union on the basis that it represented a wasted chance at procreation; and B. they were afraid that the presence of material from the enterovirus in Eve’s genetic makeup might precipitate the genesis of an entirely new sexually transmitted disease that would wipe out the entire population of The Bubble, starting with Hal. Hal did his best to allay their fears of mutant viruses. He reminded them that his previous assertions regarding the safety of G.O.D.’s experiments had been borne out: Eve had not been the cause of any new illnesses, through any vectors. He lectured them on the science behind his assertions, but this was not as effective as he'd hoped, as none of them were geneticists. He even called his mentor, G.O.D.’s Head of Bioengineering Vera Glazier, in to testify on his behalf. None of this seemed to make much of an impression, but all of it took time, which meant that Hal appeared before the council over and over again, week after week, month after month, as healthy as he’d ever been. Eventually, the Council stopped sending him summonses, but it took the better part of a year.

In the meantime, Eve and Hal were spending most of their free time together, and eventually she moved in with him. Hal, a child prodigy, had graduated from school at thirteen, come to work for G.O.D. at fifteen, and by nineteen had hit upon the first version of the genetic coding that would eventually, having been tweaked and refined over the course of countless failed experiments, make Eve’s life possible. It was only a small piece, a very small piece, of the puzzle, but it was one that had baffled the rest of them, and without it all of their work would have been for nothing.

Like Eve, Hal had felt estranged from the rest of his age group, singled out by a very different set of life experiences. His mind had set him apart, and kept him apart. It had made him see things differently. And so, the first time he’d visited Eve in her cocoon, wearing a biohazard suit like the others, to avoid possible infection, he’d been able to see the situation with different eyes. He’d understood that what she needed was a way of processing the drastic change she’d just experienced: a bridge, as it were, between her old life in The Womb, and her new life outside of it. That she wasn’t simply refusing their offers of help, she was actively trying to do something constructive: to fall back asleep, to return to a place that made sense to her. She wasn’t trying to die, she was trying to live, in the only way she knew. He intuited that, since she had spent the first part of her life in a dream state, that dream state had become her comfort zone. It was home.

So he’d walked into the cocoon without wearing protective gear, hoping to earn her trust. And he had. She'd trusted him immediately and without reservation.

She still trusted him.

Not that she didn't feel hurt and angry about his subsequent extended absence. He'd explained that he’d made a point of staying away because he didn’t trust himself around her. That people who feel very different from everybody else are always lonely, and that because of this he knew they’d want to be together if they were around each other. And Eve was too young. He’d wanted to wait until she was at least eighteen, but he hadn’t been able to stay away as long as he’d planned to. Four years was as long as he'd been able manage.

She understood his reasons, but she still wished he’d come back and talked with her before going away, if only to tell her not to worry, that she’d see him again.

Hal just shook his head when she told him this. “I don’t think I would have been able to tear myself away if I’d come back to see you a second time”.

“Just don’t disappear on me again” she’d whisper in response, and he’d smile at her like she was his favorite flavor of ice cream, and tell her he wouldn’t.

They were happy then, happy just to be together. They still are, she tells herself. She loves him, and he’s every bit as devoted to her as he’s always been, from the moment he first saw her, through the crinkly plastic window of his biohazard suit, trying to burrow back into the pile of cushions in her Cocoon. All of that is still there. But also… there’s something he’s not telling her. She can feel it. She’s asked him about it, but he doesn’t answer her questions directly. He gets evasive. Makes jokes. Changes the subject.

She’s retained her facility with dreams to a large degree. She still dreams lucidly most of the time, and finds it easier to visit others in dreams than in waking life. People who are sleeping close by, and those at a distance as well. If she’s already made a connection with someone in waking life, that connection signals them to her, like a beacon. So when she’s sleeping snuggled up next to Hal, all night long, night after night, it’s second nature for her to meet him in his dreamworld, to take him for adventures, to share with him her love of that realm where she first learned to fly, that place where anything is possible. Her childhood home and country.

She still remembers the first time they woke up together, his sleepy eyes wide with wonder: “I had the most amazing dream last night! Was that you? How did you do that? It was so beautiful… I want to go back there. I want to go back to sleep. Can we go back to sleep?” And she’d laughed and thrown herself on top of him and kissed him and kissed him, so grateful that he understood, that she’d had this effect on him, and that he remembered it.

But recently, when she’s seen him in dreams, it’s been as if some part of him is missing. Something maybe he doesn’t want her to see. Or doesn’t want himself to see…

A few nights ago, she found herself wandering the labyrinthine halls of a castle with him, an elegant construction reaching high up into the clouds. And they'd happened upon a room which was open, on three sides, to the vastness of wind and weather all around them. It was richly and tastefully appointed, featuring bookshelves filled with ancient, artfully tooled leather-bound volumes, a writing desk atop which were assembled a collection of curiously worked artifacts, and paintings on its one wall, depicting pastoral scenes inhabited by impossibly exotic and beautiful creatures. But it was overgrown with vines, wildflowers, roses, its pillared archways revealing clouds and sun and mists and rain, great iridescent dragonflies, and sailing ships hanging on thin air.

The centerpiece of this room was a long pedestal topped by a cut crystal display case. Hand in hand they approached it, curious to find out what was inside, and were surprised to see that it was a man, not moving, his hands clasped at his chest, his eyes closed; whether in death, or sleep, or stasis, or trance, she couldn’t say. The man looked exactly like Hal.

But it couldn’t have been Hal. Because Hal was standing right next to her.

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©2018 Bennett Italia, all rights reserved.

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It's National Novel Writing Month! Some of @freewritehouse's freewriters have bravely (or foolishly? Only time will tell...) accepted the challenge of writing an entire novel in one month. These are: @amelin; @botefarm; @felt.buzz; @grow23; @improv; @kaelci; @kaerpediem; @linnyplant; @mariannewest; @ntowl; @stinawog; @carolkean; @byn; @kipswolfe; @bennettitalia; @aislingcronin; @nonsowrites.

50,000 words total, which breaks down to 1,667/day.

From this challenge, stories are being spun. The following is one of them.

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Read and comment on my #freewritemadness posts for a chance to WIN SteemBasicIncome shares! For more information, click on the first banner at the end of this post

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In case anybody's wondering, this is my 84th 5 minute freewrite. (Disclaimer: even under normal circumstances, these usually take me significantly longer than 5 minutes to write and edit. And given that November is novel writing month, "significantly longer" has taken on a whole new meaning ).

Today's prompt is "irritation", but I didn't use it.

Word count for this installment is 1346.

*Come take part in the festivities at @freewritehouse! Lots of contests and other fun stuff for both writers and fans *

Many thanks to the incomparable @mariannewest for hosting these wonderful daily freewrites :) https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-383-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-irritation

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Horizontal rulers courtesy @cryptosharon

For a chance to WIN SteemBasicIncome, read and comment on my #freewritemadness posts For more information visit the @freewritehouse