Across the Universe

65 AMY

THE DOCTOR BRUSHES MY ARM ASIDE. “I WANT YOU TO SEE this.”

“What’s happening?” I ask hollowly.

The doctor glances impassively at Steela’s empty body. “Oh, that.”

“That? That?” I scream. “That was a person just a moment ago! What did you do?”

The doctor walks around the bed and taps one of the clear IV bags. “There’s a very high concentration of Phydus in here. It’s a drug,” he answers me before I can ask. “One that makes people passive.”

I think of Filomina, of Steela’s daughter, of myself. “You’re drugging the ship,” I whisper.

“Most of it.” He shrugs.

“Why?”

“Medicine is a marvel,” the doctor says, squeezing the IV bag. “If there is a problem, even a problem with a whole society, medicine can fix it.”

“You’re evil,” I say, the words creating a dawning realization of the fact within my mind.

“I am realistic.”

I reach down and grasp Steela’s hand. It is cold and lifeless.

“What is happening?” I say, dropping her hand and stepping back in disgust.

The doctor’s oblivious to both me and his patients, intent on the IV. “I told you: Phydus induces passivity.”

“What does that mean?” I shout, a note of panic tingeing my words.

“Passivity? It makes them calm. Peaceful. Passive.”

“But she’s not moving!” My voice grows louder and louder. “She’s not even blinking! Just staring straight ahead!”

The doctor looks surprised at my distress. “Don’t you see that Steela — all of them — are beyond usefulness? She and the other grays are no longer physically useful; they can’t do labor like the younger gens can. They are no longer mentally useful — long-term exposure to Phydus deteriorates the mind, even if they are on Inhibitors like Steela was. Their neurons are skipping around the Phydus, and they either become confused about what’s real and what’s not, or they become rebellious as they break through the drug’s influence. Either way, they can no longer be anything but a burden to our society. So, we take from them what we can.” He nods toward the bag with Stella’s blood. “Her DNA held particular perception and intelligence; we might be able to recycle it. Once we’ve harvested what we can use from the grays, we put them to sleep.”

Steela doesn’t look asleep. She looks dead.

I remember the puppy my parents got me when I was eight. It got Parvo disease and grew sick. My mom told me the vet had put it to sleep.

“You’re killing them?” I whisper, horrified.

The doctor shrugs. “Technically.”

“Technically?!” I screech. “They either die or they don’t; there’s no middle ground there!”

“We are in a contained environment,” the doctor says. “This ship must sustain itself.” His gaze roves from Steela to me. “We need fertilizer.”

I choke back the bile rising in my throat.

“Take it out!” I scream. I lunge for the IV.

“It’s too late. The drug is already in her system.”

I rip the needles from Steela’s arm, and I can tell the doctor isn’t lying. A drop of blood falls from the IV needle’s point, nothing else. The bag is empty. Steela’s arm has flopped over the side of the bed, but she doesn’t notice it.

“Amy,” the doctor says coolly, “I tell you this because you need to understand reality aboard this ship. I have seen you question Eldest; I have seen you talking with Elder. You must know the danger of causing trouble, of getting on Eldest’s bad side. The hatch is not the only way Eldest can dispose of you. Eldest is dangerous, Amy, very dangerous, and you’d do best to keep out of his way in the future.”

He sighs, and for the first time, I wonder if he has sympathy or empathy or any feeling at all for these patients. “I knew when Elder brought you to me that you were being affected by Phydus. Eldest and I are responsible for distributing Phydus to everyone on Godspeed. It’s our duty. However, although I believe that Phydus maintains peace, I do not believe it is best for everyone.” He meets my gaze full on. “But if you disrupt this ship, Eldest will order me to take you here, to the fourth floor. And I will put that needle in your vein. And you will at first feel a sense of warmth, and comfort, and joy.”

His gaze shifts to Steela, and mine follows. A tiny, tiny smile lingers on her wrinkled lips. “When Phydus has calmed your mind, it will calm your body. Your muscles will ease, and you will feel more relaxed than you’ve ever felt before.”

Steela’s body is sagging against the pillows. The smile slides off her face, not because she seems sad, but because the muscles in her mouth aren’t working to keep her lips curved up.

“Your body will become so calm that eventually your lungs won’t bother breathing, and your heart won’t bother beating.”

I watch Steela closely, my eyes flicking all over her body. I imagine that her chest is rising and falling, that I can hear ever so softly the beat of her heart.

But it’s all just wishful thinking.

My hands shake as I close her staring eyes.

“It is a merciful death,” the doctor says. “But still, it is death. If Eldest finds you useless — or worse, a nuisance — this is what awaits you.”