Chapter 19

Wednesday, June 26, 3089, 7:21 a.m. Three weeks later, dragging out of bed and checking through her bedroom window—Siri had warned her to expect rain today—she muttered irritably about the weather and headed for the bathroom. She walked with a limp, but the crutches and brace were gone, residing in the back of her walk-in closet. Crossing the hallway, she paused, hand on her stomach.

“Oh, crap,” she moaned. “No! No, no, no!”

She made it to the toilet and flipped up the lid, just barely in time. “Oh, God!” she bleated between convulsions, holding her hair out of the way. “Siri!” she cried. “Gudrun!” Frieda made it there first.

“Rebecca, what’s wrong?” the brooch on her pajama top translated.

“Oh, God,” Rebecca moaned. “Get your mother, Frieda!”

Gudrun stood in the doorway. “Are you sick, Rebecca?”

“Yes!” Rebecca complained. Then, suddenly mortified, she cried, “I’m fine! I just need a moment, okay!” She winced as Gudrun dropped to a knee beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You were ill yesterday morning, too, Rebecca.”

Rebecca defiantly shook her head, but then nodded. “Not like this. Not throwing up sick.” She looked suddenly horror stricken. She thought in panic: I can’t be! I haven’t missed a period! Have I?

Gudrun asked loudly: “Siri, is Rebecca suffering morning sickness?”

“No,” Rebecca moaned as Siri answered in affirmation.

“You were pregnant upon arrival in the palace. As pregnancy is a private matter among humans, Procurement chose to remain quiet on the issue and let events play out as they would. You were not aware of the pregnancy before.”

It wasn’t a question, though Rebecca spat “No!” into the bowl, anyway.

“Do you wish to terminate the child?”

“No!” Rebecca cried in horror.

“Do you wish to know the sex of the child?”

Rebecca had a good idea of her baby’s sex—and her future name. “Can I be alone, please?”

Gudrun withdrew, taking Frieda with her, closing the door. Rebecca sat with her back against the tub, head back, breathing through her mouth, hands on her knees. She’d always heard morning sickness was a bitch.

“When am I due, Siri?” she asked.

“Based on fetal development, your due date is February 23, 3090.”

“Fuuuuuck...” she moaned, laughing bitterly. “You fuck, Gunther! I asked you not to do that!”

Gunther has insisted on foregoing a condom the final time they had sex, though Rebecca had drawn the line at being ejaculated into without protection. Like so many girls and women before her, however, she’d fallen victim to a single errant sperm cell released during intercourse. At least Gunther had blessed her with a girl.

Pushing up to sit on the tub, Rebecca rubbed her stomach and thought what to do next. She couldn’t imagine a worse moment to show up pregnant, but she had a fierce love for her developing child, ruling out any question of termination. She’d sensed a connection to Arma the instant she’d met her on the balcony that morning. Though barely able to bend her mind around the concept, Arma in 3109 was her daughter, all grown up. Her and Gunther’s daughter, she mentally corrected. It hadn’t escaped her that everyone involved in this mess other than her, had a German-extraction name.

Gudrun tapped on the door. “Rebecca?”

“Don’t tell Gerhard!” she croaked.

Though Rebecca hadn’t seen Gerhard for three long days following the endowment of his prosthetic limbs, Gudrun had appeared at the verge the following morning a good sign, Rebecca thought. Having Siri locate the gate just beyond the verge, Rebecca had stepped through on her crutches to greet her. Gudrun bowed obediently; Rebecca had rolled her eyes.

“Please join me in the palace for a visit this morning,” she said. “There is much I’d like to show you, Gudrun.”

Trembling and lock-jawed, Gudrun nodded assent and followed Rebecca back to the great hall, where Rebecca directed Siri to relocate the portal to her bedroom. The crutches chafed her underarms and palms; the less walking she did, the better. She thought it best not to subject Gudrun to the golf cart quite yet. In her bedroom, Rebecca anxiously watched her potential companion gaze about.

She’d made the bed that morning and thrown her discarded clothing into the hamper. Procurement had vacuumed in her absence, and dusted the furniture, she noted. She was surprised to discover the bedroom window open, letting in fresh air. She hoped the bathroom was clean.

“This was my bedroom in 2014,” she explained. “Procurement recreated it in detail for my comfort.” Hobbling to the wall, she mentally commanded the door to open as she approached, revealing the balcony outside. One bizarre detail of the recreation was that no matter what part of the house she occupied, the windows always overlooked the balcony, and the doors always opened onto it. Yesterday she had ventured outside from her bedroom, and then entered the dining room downstairs through the sliding glass door. She could imagine Gudrun’s reaction to doing that.

“Who is that?” Gudrun asked.

Rebecca followed her gaze to the poster of Iggy Azalea beside her closet door. “Do you sing?” she asked, naming the singer. When Gudrun gazed at her uncomprehending, she said: “Siri, please play ‘Fancy’ for Gudrun.”

Gudrun gasped at the outpouring of sound from the stereo speakers. A far cry from the Cole Porter tunes she’d played at the celebration, and Beethoven, Rebecca thought. She cautioned Siri to lower the volume somewhat, grateful for her extensive music library.

“Humans lived on every continent in 2014, and in tremendous numbers,” she said. “I can’t begin to explain how great our numbers were then, or the diversity of the cultures present on each continent. Diversity here in Year 177 is nonexistent. See how Iggy’s features differ from yours and mine?” She pointed at the poster of Beyonce Knowles below, with her cadre of back-up singers. A third poster, on the opposite side of the closet door featured Kanye West in concert.

“I hope to address the lack of diversity someday once the gate is running again. I’ll need your help accomplishing that, but right now I need to gain the trust and acceptance of the villagers. We need to introduce technology into their lives, Gudrun. It’s our only guarantee that humans can survive long enough to repopulate the earth.” She gazed at Gudrun worriedly. “Will Gerhard cooperate?”

Gudrun smiled obliquely. “He detests the replacement legs you gave him yesterday. However, he wore them all night long in privacy, including to bed. He removed them this morning before meeting the village elders, telling them he bore no intention of ever wearing them. Holger was ordered to return them this morning before I left, but...” She laughed, glancing out the window to the verge below. “I would not be surprised if Gerhard kept them, just as a sign of displeasure with you, Rebecca.”

Rebecca grinned widely. Maybe old Gerhard would come around, after all.

Gudrun toured the remainder of the house with interest, growing somber at the significance of Rebecca’s parent’s empty bedroom, and that of her sister. “I lost my parents at an early age,” she informed solemnly. “A fire caused by lightning burned half the village in Year 157. Two of my younger siblings died, as did 22 other villagers. I managed to save myself, and Holger, who was then only 2 years old, but no one else. He is 22 now,” she noted, smiling obliquely again. “He is unmarried, though many village girls vie for his attentions, Rebecca.”

“Um ... yeah,” Rebecca replied uncomfortably. I can’t imagine why.

She escorted Gudrun downstairs, via the elevator at the end of the hall. Gudrun eyed everything Rebecca pointed out in wonder. She grew especially excited when introduced to the refrigerator.

“It’s cold, like Arcadia in the winter months!” She examined the selection of cold-cuts and cheese, fresh vegetables, and fruit in the clear plastic drawers. She became near-apoplectic as Rebecca depressed the recessed lever in the freezer door and dispensed half a dozen ice cubes into her palm.

“Ice! How can you have ice in the summer?” She grasped the cold oblongs in one hand, while snatching up the two or three that had dropped to the floor. Her eyes couldn’t grow any rounder had she witnessed a screaming over-flight of F-15’s.

“You could sustain the entire village from freezers similar to this over the hardest winter,” Rebecca pointed out. “No one would ever go hungry again.” She removed a package of frozen chicken wings from the freezer and placed it in Gudrun’s hands. How Procurement had stocked the freezer, refrigerator, and pantry with edible goods, Rebecca couldn’t imagine. Siri had advised against offering the villager’s processed food of any kind, only the technology with which to store what they caught or harvested. But that didn’t extend to Gudrun and Frieda. If Gudrun chose to live in the palace with Rebecca, she would share the rewards.

“Imagine slaughtering animals in July to eat in January, Gudrun. The milk you draw from cows could be stored for weeks in refrigerator units, along with cheese, and fruits and vegetables that you pick when ripe. An entire harvest can be stored in the autumn to accompany your meals over the winter and spring months. Siri can provide the knowledge necessary to grow and harvest crops more efficiently and expand the village’s supply of domestic animals. If we can locate the missing river—” She laughed, imagining the requirements necessary to reroute the Ohio River. “—I can teach you how to fish, and greatly increase your protein intake.” She laughed again, understanding Gudrun’s obvious befuddlement. She took her free hand, the one not grasping dripping ice cubes.