C James - Dome Six

Now he worked in the laundry with most of the other Elders, steam-cleaning uniforms three days a week in a hot, humid room that eased his arthritic knees. Most of his free time was spent talking to his late wife Elaine’s IDA-generated Legacy. She succumbed to cancer years earlier, one of the diseases that Macros couldn’t help with.

He was one of the few people in Tosh’s life who were better at listening than at talking, so they took frequent walks together.

“The Fifth Epoch is just around the corner,” he said sardonically. “Pretty exciting stuff.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. Every 20 years they would gather to hear the latest sensor readings and view footage from the apex array. As a kid it seemed exciting, but after that you saw it for what it really was — a phony way to keep hope alive.

“I’d skip it if I could,” she said.

“Sorry I’ll miss it,” Art joked. She didn’t find it funny. “Just stay all the way at the back so you can be the first to leave.”

“Good tip.”

“You’ve certainly had an eventful week,” Art noted.

He was the first one she came to after the incident at school. She’d done her best to forget about it, for her own sanity as much as for the kids’ sake. But the more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.

They took the Agora path to the left and continued strolling.

“I know, but it’s not just that,” she explained. “It’s like all this stuff is coming to a head, y’know? Owen’s Placement, the monitor, the system failures…”

She wanted to say your impending euthanasia , but that would make it real.

“How’s Owen feeling about his Placement?” Art asked.

“He talks to you more than me,” replied Tosh. “I never know what he’s thinking.”

“Ah, he’s young. I wouldn’t read much into it.”

Owen’s mother, Penny, died during childbirth. But the defining moment of his young life came when he was just four. His father, Stephen, vanished from the Dome without a trace. The official explanation was that he went insane like Downing’s wife and crawled into the incinerator, but no one believed that for a second. The question of what really happened tormented Owen ever since.

Stephen’s disappearance made Owen the only orphaned minor in the Dome’s history. The Authority was inclined to leave him with his grandparents, but the algorithms had a different idea — let him be raised by someone younger who could empathize with his unique circumstance.

So it was that Tosh became Owen’s guardian.

But their relationship had become strained of late. He was nearing his Placement date and Tosh had a feeling it wasn’t going to go his way. Her cynicism was wearing off and it had set them both on edge.

“Owen’s Placement is tonight?” Art asked.

“Yeah, at six.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right to temper his hopes a bit,” he offered.

“Is that really my job? To prepare him for disappointment?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“You always worked in information systems, right?” she asked.

“For 45 years,” Art said. “Until they put me out to pasture.”

“Ugh,” said Tosh. “How did you do it all day, every day?”

“All you can do is just keep your head down and—”

An ear-piercing electronic tone cut him off and began to repeat in falling tones. It was another UV shield drill.

“Aw, come on…” Tosh said.

She stopped and dutifully dug the ratty silver blanket out of her pocket. Art did the same with practiced ease. They unfurled their blankets, pulled them up over their backs like capes, then laid prone in the turf. Art reached over and tugged a portion of Tosh’s blanket over her exposed leg.

“Maybe someday it won’t be a drill,” he replied.

The UV shield was a photochromic liquid sandwiched between the graphene panels that comprised the Dome. It was nearly opaque at the foundation but gradually became clearer near the apex.

Nobody left the house during the day without their blanket. Being exposed for more than a couple seconds would result in burns or cancer if you weren’t prepared. The only alternative was to get inside immediately.

The alarm continued for three full minutes, then fell silent. All you could do was lie on your stomach until rising tones signaled the end of the drill. It usually took about 10 minutes.

“How many of these do you figure you’ve done in your life?” Tosh said.

“Oh,” Art began, “I’d say at least half a dozen times a year for every year I’ve kicked around this place, so it’s probably pushing 500. Something like that. What was I just saying about work?”

“That you just keep your head down.”

“Sage advice, I know.”

“What would you do if you ever got out?” she asked.

“Got out?”

“Of the Dome. I mean, what if they said everything was fine and we could leave? What’s the first thing you’d do?” Tosh asked.

Art was silent for a few seconds. It was quite a fanciful question. In each of the four previous Epochs, conditions outside were worse. After you heard how bleak it was, you didn’t expect much from the next one.

“I’d stare up at the sky,” Art finally said. “I’d find a nice spot to lie down and I’d watch the sunrise. I’d spend the whole day watching clouds go by, then I’d watch the stars all night.”

His reply suggested he had considered this before, at least as a younger man. She liked the way his voice changed when he described it. Spending a day looking at the unfiltered sky sounded nice.

“What about you?” Art asked.

“I’d swim,” she said. “I’d find the biggest lake or river I could, and I’d stay in it until I figured out how to swim. If I didn’t, then I’d just float. Just be cradled by water. I’ll bet that would be amazing.”

“I believe you will someday,” Art said.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Nothing changes here, Art,” Tosh declared. “Not ever.”

The drill ended. Tosh rose first and helped Art to his feet. His knees gave him trouble, but he was still pretty spry for his age. Useful or not, he didn’t deserve to die.

They re-folded their blankets into little squares, pocketed them, and continued on their way.

Tosh returned home with a heavy heart. Once Art went in the Box and Owen moved into the apprentice dormitories, she would be alone. Her father used to say that people moved in and out of your life when and how you needed, as though the universe was responding to a question you never knew to ask. It was a nice thought, even if she didn’t quite believe it.

She was still in the hallway when she heard the muffled voice of Owen’s late mother, Penny, coming from inside. He talked to her AI-generated Legacy quite a bit lately, which also contributed to the tension between them. If you knew your late family members well, the differences were obvious. If you didn’t, like Owen, then you might be led to believe that’s how they really were.

IDA tracked your location at all times, so doors all had prox locks. Hers clicked faintly as she drew hear and turned the handle.

“Are you kidding?” Penny’s Legacy said. “I was super nervous. But also a little excited to start my life. You should be, too.”

“I’m trying to be, but she won’t let me.”

Tosh grimaced. Of course digi-Penny would say that. If you were excited about your work, you did it better.

Legacies were based on extrapolated behaviors and attitudes from health data, your movements about the Dome, your work, conversations, and much more. To make it more accurate, IDA constantly encouraged you to confess your deepest fears and secrets. This behavior was rewarded with Ration Rewards that you could exchange for whole foods like pineapple or grapes.