Across the Universe

73 AMY

I WOULD HAVE FELT SORRY FOR ELDEST’S BROKEN NOSE AND bloody mouth if he weren’t such an evil, twisted tyrant to start with. But considering he’s planned to kill me before — and again, just now, when he told Doc to leave me on the fourth floor — well, let’s just say I didn’t have too much sympathy for the old jackhole.

The doctor puts a hand on Elder’s shoulder. “Elder, we need the drug. This ship won’t operate without the control it affords us.”

Elder almost agrees with him, I can see it in his eyes. “That’s not true,” I say, willing Elder to look at me, to remember how the drug killed me inside. “Yes, it will be harder without the drug. Yes, it may be easier for us all to bear a lifetime without the sky if we’re doped up beyond thought. But that’s no life, not really. In amongst all this sorrow”—I meet Elder’s eyes then, and we both know I’m talking about Harley now—“there is also joy. You can’t have one without the other.”

Elder stumbles away from Doc and Eldest, closer to me.

“I can’t be the kind of leader you want me to,” he says. “I will never, ever be the kind of leader you want me to be. And I will be better because of it.”

Eldest whirls around to Doc. “Do it.”

“Do what?” I say.

Eldest has Doc’s full attention. “We’ll make another. Use different DNA replicators. We’ll get rid of this one and make another.”

“Do what?” Elder says. His eyes are wide, as if he’s afraid of his own thoughts.

Eldest turns on Elder. “You frexing idiot. I can’t believe we share the same DNA!”

“What are you talking about?” Elder’s voice quavers. “Are you… my father?”

“There, there!” Eldest says, pointing. Beyond that wall is the table with the needles, and the big cylinder with golden-yellow liquid and tiny circles of embryos inside.

“What — some of your DNA was injected into my mother?”

Eldest roars in frustration. “You never had a mother! We’re the same person! Elders are cloned — same DNA, same everything. All I did was pluck you from the jar and put you in a tube sixteen years ago.”

“We are not the same,” Elder says, disgusted.

“Down to our genetic code, we are exact replicas of every Eldest before us.”

But I know that’s not what Elder meant when he said he wasn’t the same.

“That’s why we shared access; that’s why my biometric scan would get us anywhere,” Elder mumbles. I think about the pleasant lady’s voice in the computer: “Eldest/Elder access granted.” The computer never distinguished between Elder and Eldest because there was no difference between the two.

“I don’t care,” Elder says louder, staring right at Eldest. “It doesn’t matter to me that we’re the same. I’m not you, and I won’t make the decisions you’ve made. I don’t care about your lessons; I don’t care about your rules. I’m done listening to you!”

I hear soft footsteps behind me. Everyone else is so focused on Elder and Eldest they don’t notice the man with scars on his neck, the one walking quietly forward. Orion reaches for the bucket of Phydus that Eldest dropped when Elder punched him. The movement of him bending down catches Doc’s eye, then Elder’s, then Eldest’s. Eldest’s eyes grow wide with shock.

“He’s here,” he whispers so softly I’m not sure of his words. His eyes dart to the doctor’s and then back to the man before him. “You swore he was dead.”

“And I am dead, Eldest,” the man says, lifting the bucket up. “The Elder you made is dead, gone. I’m no longer that Elder. I’m Orion now. The Hunter.”

Eldest opens his mouth — to rant, to rage, to rave — but Orion silences him by upturning the bucket of Phydus on his head.

“Stand back! Don’t touch it!” the doctor screams as the gooey-thick liquid slides down Eldest’s body. Orion steps back, smiling. Elder looks as if he’d like to rush to Eldest’s aid, but stops himself.

Eldest’s face was scrunched in a mask of anger, but the mask slips away as Phydus coats his skin. He cocks his head like a curious child. His knees crumple, and he flops to the ground, legs splayed in front of him, arms behind him, supporting his weight. A slow, easy smile spreads across his face, then falls into nothingness. He looks, for a moment, more gentle and at peace than I’ve ever seen him before. His hands slide on the smooth floor, and his body crashes all the way to the ground. He doesn’t catch himself; his head cracks on the tile so hard I wince. Phydus spreads around his body like a bloodstain. I watch the slow in-and-out of his breaths until they stop.

Eldest has calmed to death.