Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (18 page)

“No, I had no clue.”

Fillion regarded his dad warily, and then said in a low voice, “I told you, I won’t help
you
.”

“Don’t help me then. Help them.”

Hanley gave him a knowing smile, one Fillion detested. As much as he hated this predicament, and hated his dad, he knew his dad was right. The Watsons never had a fair trial, and Fillion’s distorted sense of honor couldn’t refute that fact. He felt weak and exposed. His dad always knew exactly how to exploit and control him.

“For them, and
only
them. I don’t care about anything else, not even my own stakes in this business.” Fillion felt his adrenaline rage when his dad gave a shrug, accepting his terms.

Hanley had him exactly where he wanted him and had planned for him to be all along. But for what reason? Just as an exercise to introduce the business, and for his son to get to know New Eden from the inside out? To help the second generation inside the dome like he suggested earlier? That seemed too obvious, not to mention that his mom oversaw the psychological side of the project, not his dad. Each action his dad made always contained layers of plot points, and what was on the surface was never the truth, but only the layer he presented to charm and win over the masses. Hanley had even tried to play to Fillion’s ego by suggesting that he was the perfect solution to the second generation’s outside migration needs.

Thoughts raced through his mind, and he focused them on Leaf, as thinking of Willow was too dangerous for him right now. The young nobleman would be his future business partner, or would have been if he wasn’t removed from The Legacy when presumed dead. If Fillion was expected to uncover the truth behind the Watsons, he wanted to right some of the wrongs immediately.

“Leaf needs to be written back into The Legacy.”

“Not yet. Let’s see what happens.”

Fillion paused and his mouth hung open. “That makes no sense. What do you think will happen?”

Hanley crossed his arms over his chest and gave Fillion a dull look, trying to deflect with emotional intimidation. Fillion wasn’t a burden and neither was Leaf, so he decided to confront his dad with a different angle.

“You’ll let him believe he’s The Aether when he’s not? That’s cruel,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not surprised, though. Another victim for you to use and manipulate.”

“And what makes
you
think that Leaf believes he is The Aether?” Hanley shot back.

“He didn’t want to share his last name. He refused to answer if they were in trouble. And they asked how to activate a Scroll.”

Fillion took another puff on his cigar, thankful he kept the security code about his mom a secret. His dad looked at the floor in deep thought for several minutes, and Fillion braced himself for the attack.

“He can’t go by his name. The world thinks he’s dead. Any suggestions for a fake ID? Perhaps there are other family members you wish to exploit?” Hanley gave a smug look, chuckling triumphantly when Fillion refused to take the bait. “We’ll tell the residents of New Eden that you are a business exchange for research and development, your idea of traveling abroad before going to college.” Fillion opened his mouth to protest but Hanley continued, “The residents of New Eden will only know you as Corlan Jayne. I’ll make sure that Jeff receives the documents with this name. We’ll slip them past the legal system.” Hanley finished off his whiskey, celebrating with his solution.

“I’m not going to college.”

“That is my agreement, son. You committed a crime. If you want to keep your conviction hidden, especially from the Watsons and your future employees, then when you come out you’ll go to college. Actually, when you come out you’ll go to MIT.” Hanley sat down and gave Fillion a hard stare.

Fillion’s heart sank. His dad was blackmailing him where it hurt most—his identity. The Net communities now had more shit on his tainted and blemished identity to mock and discuss, and his dad was now willing to shame him further by fully disclosing the sordid details to the residents of New Eden Township. He was a criminal, just like his dad, a fact he didn’t want Leaf or Willow to know.

Was the set-up to ensure he went to college?

In some ways it didn’t matter what name he went with because everyone would know the truth once he was owner. God, he was going to piss off a lot of people, not exactly a great way to start out as their boss. But an alternate name would offer a form of protection while he was trapped inside for ninety days in case they were all crazy, even crazy enough to murder. He hated this. It felt like he was being set up to fail, and he didn’t understand the test.

Was this all because of college?

Rage coursed through him and his body began to shake as he watched Hanley form an arrogant smile of victory, and Fillion snapped.

“Then your master plan will be complete, and your son will be an exact replica of yourself. And then let me guess, once I finish at MIT, you’ll have a job waiting for me at New Eden Biospherics & Research before I become owner, and my criminal history will be conveniently sealed. God, you should have just cloned yourself.”

For a moment, Fillion looked down at his hands and contemplated if the last line was true, considering the advancements in DNA cloning and human genetic engineering. He decided he looked too much like his mom’s side of the family for that statement to be entirely true. His dad was narcissistic and would have engineered his child to look just like him.

With shaking hands and clenched teeth, Fillion put the cigar in the ashtray, electing to voice another thought that came to mind, “How did you know I was hacking anyways? Not even the government could figure that out.”

“You think I don’t know what my own children are doing? Or are capable of?”

“Answer the damn question.”

“No. I won’t. But suffice to say, I’m not as removed from your life as you think I am. I know
exactly
what you do, and same with Lynden. You honestly think I would let my future business heir destroy his own life? You need to face the world and stop hiding underground. I’ve saved you, and one day you’ll thank me.”

“Oh, please. Like you really care.” Fillion’s stomach rolled, sickened by his dad’s manipulative games and hero complex. “You want something from me like everyone else. I’m just a pawn and nothing more.”

Hanley sat unmoved, not registering a single emotion, allowing Fillion to finish his angry speech. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to Fillion when his dad shifted in the chair, and blinked.

“Do we have a deal?”

With a loud groan of frustration and defeat, Fillion stood. “Fine, I accept. But I have a condition of my own.” Hanley raised his eyebrows for him to continue. “Lynden will be home-schooled with the best tutor your money can find. The elite school is full of friends she doesn’t need, which you’d do something about if you gave a damn. She’ll also be assigned to help the New Eden newcomer adjust to our world. It will be her job, and you’ll pay her so she’ll take it seriously, keeping her out of trouble.”

“Easy enough,” Hanley said. “You agree to college once you are out of New Eden?”

“Once I’m out, what stops me from going to college?”

“Nothing. I’m asking if I have your word.” Hanley stuck his hand out for him to shake.

“Yeah, you have my word.”

Fillion gave his dad a wicked grin, spitting in his hand first. The implications of his gesture and the insult registered on Hanley’s face, but he followed suit anyways, spitting into his own hand before sealing their oath with their different DNA. He would never be his dad’s clone, and Fillion wanted Hanley to complete a deal with that as his final statement.

***

    
Jane Poynter entered the world’s first hermetically sealed, manufactured ecological system in 1991 with seven other people. ... Throughout their stay, short tempers, depression and even the specter of insanity kept life interesting for the “biospherians.” In her new book,
The Human Experiment: Two Years and Twenty Minutes Inside Biosphere 2
, Poynter gives an insider’s view of the famous experiment. She spoke with Wired News about cult rumors, Biosphere 2’s unique usefulness to climatologists and her time inside the bubble…

…
WN:
You wrote that personal conflict among the biospherians was one of the most difficult things about the two-year closure. How do you think the human psyche responds to competition for resources, enclosed spaces and these types of stressful situations?

Poynter:
It’s well-known that people don’t respond to scarce resources necessarily in what we might consider a positive light. People who study small groups in isolation and confinement—there’s now a whole branch of psychology called isolated confined environment psychology—would say that scarce resources are one of the many stresses that cause what NASA now calls “bad behavioral health,” because they can’t say the word “psychology,” I think. So it’s a whole bunch of stresses. It’s the resource scarcity, it’s a lack of stimulation, it’s the oppressiveness of just being confined—all of these various stresses occurring over a long period of time are causing the bad behavioral health.

—
Eric Giles, “Life Inside the Biosphere Bubble”,
Wired
, October 18, 2006, courtesy of
Condé
Nast *

***

P
eace washed over her body as she leaned her back against the trunk of the willow oak, sitting on a branch high above the ground while humming a merry tune. Here she could observe her world out of sight, akin to a songbird overcome by the serenity of a beautiful tree-top view.

Yesterday, she did not know if she would survive, missing the evening meal that honored her father following the Second Ceremony. Today, she decided to try and embrace life in order to prepare for the seeding that would begin on the morrow for the Third Ceremony. She had risen early to attend Mass, surprised at how differently she felt from the prior evening, then quietly left to perch high above in the forest for additional meditation in search of peace. It was well after the mid-day meal, but she was not hungry enough to climb down and leave her sanctuary.

A visitor had come last evening and encouraged her to eat burnt toast and a tumbler of goat’s milk. Although the idea of food made her stomach recoil, she had complied, nibbling small morsels, remembering that Leaf had said that he would send for the naturopath. The voice, smooth and confident, was not reminiscent of the physician, but she was too consumed with pain and delirium to focus. Oaklee could have opened her eyes, but they were swollen and bruised from crying sessions, and the light intensified the pain so she kept them closed.

This morning, she felt new life, believing that she had finally passed through the dark cloud of emotional death. Her mourning had transitioned into momentary gladness as Brother Markus had promised, and Coal was nowhere to disrupt her journey.

With a happy sigh, she ended the music from her heart and allowed her eyes to absorb the canvas of colors nourishing her soul. Oak trees, maples, Douglas firs, and cedars dotted the temperate forest, the deciduous trees on fire with autumn’s glory. Oaklee loved this time of year. Before long, winter would set in and most of the trees would be laid bare. Their naked branches would yearn for the leafy garment that would return in spring, awakened by Mother Earth’s kiss.

Her eyes traveled around the dome, curiously landing on objects, people, and nature, each one provoking a myriad of thoughts and feelings. Glancing up, she studied the suspension bridges that
stretched across the north and south regions of the main dome, providing a walkway between the observation decks above the third-floor apartments.

On rare occasions it would rain in the Outside world, the drumming pitter-patter invoking her curiosity and wonder. She would venture to the observation deck—the highest point in the biodome structures—and imagine the feeling of millions of water droplets finding their journey disrupted as they splattered on her head, shoulders, and face. She decided it must be a feeling of redemption and forgiveness, the atmosphere wiping away the dirt of one’s life by cleansing all that plagued the soul.

Rain technology existed in New Eden, a dome-wide event that stirred the air, cleaned the leaves on the trees, and watered the crops. The bio-rain would only last from one-quarter to one-half hour, randomly showering throughout the week, and usually at night. A daylight bio-rain event inspired a playful atmosphere. The community would pour out of their homes and raise hands to the ceiling while enjoying the shower, wringing out hair and clothes. The rainforest experienced a heavy bio-rainfall each morning, creating thick humidity by mid-day.

Unless she left the biodome, she would never know the sensation of an entire sky weeping, nor be able to empathize with the endless horizon as it poured its soul out for hours.

Hidden fans kicked in and she felt her hair move with the artificial wind, a necessity to help trees, plants, and even agriculture develop strong roots, harden the bark on trees, and also to stir the atmosphere. The wind speed varied throughout the week, imitating mild storms at times. Leaves rustled, providing a soothing lullaby that momentarily drowned out the sounds of a community hard at work.

Her family had five more days and then their time of bereavement would be over, and she and Leaf would begin work once more. Leaf would return to work in The Rows and tend the various other gardens throughout New Eden.

She would return to her loom, weaving cloth from flax linen, hemp, and other fibrous plants grown in the gardens. She had so much to process, including a recent supply of goat and alpaca fibers to be spun into yarn and threads. Two village girls were apprenticing with her next week, and she would busy their small hands with carding the fleece fibers in preparation.

Laurel was to begin her apprenticeship in making teas, tinctures, soaps, and lotions this year, working with the herbalist. As the children of the Earth Element, it was their duty, according to their father, to find purpose working with direct ingredients from Gaia’s pantry.

The word pantry invoked a sudden worry. Who would oversee the Harvest this year? Her father, as the Earth Element, was the manager and overseer each harvest season. Would Leaf step into the role?

The Harvest was five weeks away, and then the entire community would band together to dry, prepare, and process food for storage in the cellars of the Great Hall. Hay and alfalfa would be harvested and prepared for the barn animals as well. The Rows lay in the southwestern portion of the biodome. Strand after strand of lush vegetables grew in patterns of swirls and horseshoes. The variations of greens, yellows, purples, reds, and oranges transcended nourishment for the physical body and became food for the soul.

The dead were partially buried in a garden the shape of a heart, their love beating on with each life sustained. From her perch, she could view the heart-shaped garden located in the very center of The Rows. The remaining ashes were mixed into the general composting piles so they would continue to be spread amongst the living, a never-ending communion partaken in New Eden.

Workers with woven baskets hunched over in the fields and gathered greens, herbs, and aromatics in preparation for the dinner meal. A cook apprentice chased a renegade chicken, probably an older hen no longer laying, destined to become a meal as her final gift to this village.

She watched as her friend Rain gathered a sample of soil to test. A handful of garden dirt was sifted into a wooden cup and skilled fingers marked it with a blue stone on top. Other samples crowded the basket, resting within wooden cups, each with a different colored stone as a marker. The reserved samples were brought back to Rain’s mother, Norah, who performed a moisture content test to determine if the soil should be amended, as well as if hand-watering schedules should be adjusted. Lake, Rain’s little brother, trailed behind with a bucket and ladle, gently hydrating the crops, and running off to the stone pump well as needed.

The wind felt refreshing, and Oaklee closed her eyes again, lifting her head up to the breeze. An acorn landed in her lap and sparked her attention. She knew the squirrels were busy celebrating a harvest season of their own. With amusement, she tossed the acorn on the ground for the squirrels to find later.

The bio-breeze caressed her cheek and ran its invisible hands through her hair as it passed by, enchanting the leaves to rustle in the wind, their song an arborous tale for all who cared to listen. Oaklee smiled at the tales and adventures they shared, her heart yearning for her roots to spread and grow, ushering in a new season of life and healthy growth. Unlike the orchard inhabitants, who were old biddies gossiping about the latest goings-on, their red fruits blushing at the scandals, the temperate forest were the elders passing on their wisdom. Their branches were always reaching out for the younger generations to learn, stretching out farther each season toward the youthful hearts in invitation. The willow oak with its gnarled branches was her favorite elder in the forest to sit before and rest, basking in the comfort of the large roots, a sign for all that this elder had experienced many trials and tribulations in its lifetime.

Ferns and wild grasses gently knelt and bowed before the soil with the bio-breeze’s kind encouragement, sometimes inspiring the wildlife to explore the forest floor for unearthed harvest treasures. Oaklee spied a rabbit scamper off as her brother approached her tree, lowering himself behind a giant fern growing proudly in the shade of the lower branches. Leaf hunkered low behind the fern fronds, draping an arm across his eyes as if he too wished to forget the community for a spell.

After a few minutes of observing his solitude unnoticed, Oaklee gasped when the strawberry blond curls of Ember Hansen arrived. It was as if Ember knew exactly where to find him, and then she asked if she may join him. Leaf sat up and scanned the forest, and then glanced over his shoulder, clearly taken aback by Ember’s presence. His features softened with his mouth slightly parted as he stared at Coal’s twin. Graceful hands lifted a cloth, and Ember offered food from the basket she carried, ignoring Leaf’s strange behavior. The Daughter of Fire had planned a mid-morning picnic for them to enjoy together.

How dare he? Oaklee fumed inwardly. Of all the women in New Eden, why Ember? How had she never noticed their growing affection? Oaklee could not begin to understand a man’s heart, or exactly what they found particularly attractive in a female.

In disgust, Oaklee turned her attention to the sky, barely visible beyond the panes of the dome. The panes were made from a unique material that absorbed the sunlight and moonlight, reflecting it back as if natural rays to the inhabitants of this strange ecosystem but without allowing the residents to peer beyond the walls they called home. She was told it was a distorted reflection of the blue expanse she had never seen. Oh, how she yearned to see the sun, moon, and stars with her own eyes. Turning her thoughts back to the present problem sitting below her, she pushed away visions of puffy white clouds, as they were described to her, passing by in the lazy sky, as blue as a cornflower.

Ember resembled Coal slightly. When standing side-by-side it was evident they were siblings, but when viewed apart, they looked as if they belonged to entirely different families. She had to remind herself constantly that they were twins. Ember always seemed so much older, like Leaf. Oaklee had never met Coal and Ember’s mother, as she died in childbirth one year before she was born. Corona, their half-sister, and Blaze, their half-brother, had their step-mother’s coloring with dark brown hair, nearly black with auburn undertones, and striking blue eyes, light in color with dark blue rims. Strangely, they reminded her of another pair of eyes she had seen recently. Shaking her head, she refocused her thoughts. Ember had reddish hues to her honeyed tresses, beautifully cascading into soft curls reaching her waist, and dark brown eyes that reminded her of Coal’s. Other than sharing eyes, as well as
a dimple that appeared when smiling, and narrow noses, they looked nothing alike.

Oaklee never took to Ember, finding her too quiet and uneventful, a boring existence. Perhaps having spent fifteen years with his passionate sister, Leaf yearned for a more peaceful home, Oaklee pondered sadly. In similar ways, Coal was also mild-mannered. But he had a restless inner strength that desired adventure, a perpetual need to overcome and conquer, relentless at times until he got what he wanted. Perhaps this is why he knew her so well. He was driven to conquer the challenge that is Willow Oak Watson. She contemplated if this was why she felt a stirring reluctance, afraid a union would end in Coal dominating every aspect of her life in order to understand her and meet her needs.

Her attention returned to Leaf and Ember’s clandestine picnic, and she listened to Ember speak soothingly, although she could not make out the words. Leaf stiffened and his expression grew serious when she gently took his hand. His eyes stared at their hold a few moments before his thumb began scandalously caressing Ember’s fingertips. He lowered his head, and Oaklee could tell he was holding back an enormity of emotions, the melancholy droop of his shoulders shaking gently every so often. She sucked in a breath when Ember leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, a bold move for a woman of marriageable age to make. Connor, her father, could demand a union based on such shared intimacy, especially as they were concealed and separated from the community.

Oaklee could not allow this. Ember would make the most uninteresting sister. Finding an acorn still attached to a nearby twig, she pulled it free and dropped it over Leaf’s head. It plunked with perfect aim. He reached up and touched his head as Ember laughed, placing her hands over her mouth. Leaf looked up and spotted her, immediately providing a glare, full of promises, all which she knew were empty. She smiled back in triumph, relishing in the victory.

Leaf grabbed Ember’s hand, pulling her up, promptly dropping his hold as she stood beside him, and then walked away from the willow oak with one last glance of annoyance. Oaklee could not help herself, laughing out loud as she watched their retreating forms disappear in the forest.

“It is good to hear you laugh.”

Oaklee grabbed a branch to her right, startled from her balanced position.

“Coal, if I was not up in this tree I would slap you, sneaking up on a girl high above the ground in such a way.” She turned frightened eyes his direction as he laughed.

He gave her a boyish grin as he climbed up another nearby branch. She watched as the scene played through his mind of her slapping him, an amusing thought apparently. Oaklee remained unmoved by his attempts at charm, and instead remained guarded.

His voice still contained traces of laughter as he said, “You are quite mistaken, I was not sneaking. If I recall correctly, you were too busy interfering with your brother and my sister to notice I was joining your company.”