Shona didn't call him that morning. Lost in his thoughts, it wasn't until his recreation period that Kimo realized with surprise that he missed her. She had become an integral part of his life. When she wasn't there, what remained was a hole, a place that needed to be filled. She was his main connection to something beyond himself. Without her interactions, he felt even more detached as he slowly made his way along the tree-covered path.
At the bend in the path, he saw the trail down which the mystery woman had disappeared. This was the fifth time he had wandered past the spot today. The trail was not as clearly defined as the main path; it was littered with leaves and loose dirt. And it drew him with a force that surprised him. Finally, he felt his feet turn, and he took tentative steps onto it, touching something wild, untamed, and free of the trampling of conventional travelers.
His isolation increased as he moved deeper into the woods. Rather than alarm him, it reinforced his mood, his desire to break away. He was reaching a point of decision, and his inner state of mind was making the decision an easy one.
When he reached a comfortable distance, he stopped and looked around. There was no one to be seen. With hesitant hands, he reached up and gripped the bottom of the hood. The time for decision came, and it was made. He slowly raised the front of the hood, exposing his face. It was a small step, but it opened up the world. No longer restricted to two small eye holes, he saw a wonderful panorama around him. The wind blew lightly across his cheek, carrying strong smells of the musty woods. He pushed the hood back further, and the sounds of the woods came to life in his uncovered ears. Everything purred gently around him, a steady hum of life he had never before experienced. For the first time, the world reached him directly and completely.
He cast a glance around one more time and took the last step. The hood came off completely; it rested softly in his hands. He had done this every day in his room for as long as he could remember, but this place was different - it demanded courage.
He looked around and smiled. He had never felt so free, so open. So exposed.
The sound of a twig cracking behind him brought all his fears racing back. He spun, his hands moving to restore the hood; but he stopped. She was there, her own head open to their surroundings. She had come from farther up the trail, and she stood there now looking at him. There was uncertainty in the few hesitant steps she made toward him, but there was hopefulness as well.
It was too much for Kimo. The plans for his private experiment did not include a spectator. He brought the hood down over his head, casting himself back into his solitary cell. The small glimmer of optimism he had seen vanished from her face. With a frown, she pulled her own hood down. Eyes on the trail, she began walking again toward him. The trail wasn't very wide. He realized she was going to pass very close to him. Normally, this would have set off alarms in his mind - "Four feet!" - but this time it didn't. He watched her come, almost anticipating the closeness.
As she passed him, her foot faltered, and she leaned into him for a moment before moving on. The feeling of their bodies contacting through the gowns made him gasp. Part of it was the realization that he had just touched someone for the first time in his life. Even more, though, was the sensation itself. He had never felt anything so wonderful before.
He turned and watched her go. She walked off down the trail, a small bit of hair peeking lazily from under her hood. Just as she went out of sight, his bracelet began flashing white. He sighed - no more experiments for today.
When he reached the path, he headed round the bend and back toward the building. He saw others moving along in unison, all flowing in the same direction, walking across the grass, down the path - a large beige tide of humanity returning to shore. As the wave compressed around him, directly ahead he saw her, her hair still peeking from under her hood. Without thought or hesitation, he followed. They passed up the steps and through the doors; he never took his eyes off of her. Up the stairs, up another flight, down the corridor... He realized he should be going directly to his own room, but he didn't care. What could they do?
Toward the end of the hall, the crowd was thinning as people stepped off to their rooms. He saw her pause at a door and then enter. He quickly stepped to the door. It was still open; he looked inside. Through the opening, he saw her. She already had her hood off. When she saw him standing there, she froze. His heart pounding, he lifted his hood a little, just a hint, then lowered it again. Her eyes grew wide with recognition.
Not knowing what to do, knowing he only wanted to talk to her, he took a step forward. Immediately, his bracelet constricted painfully around his wrist. Through the gown, he could see it flashing dark purple.
Warning. It was the same thing he had experienced the day he strayed too far from the path and crossed an unseen boundary. First came the slight painful constriction -
warning. Next came the intense debilitating pain -
violation. That time, it cost him a week's worth of free recreation, forcing him to work out with painful exercise machines. What would they do for this type of violation?
He pulled back and the pain subsided. Did someone now know he was here? He glanced back at her and their eyes locked for a moment before he turned and quickly started toward his own room. Fortunately, it wasn't far. He bounded up the stairs and down the hallway, passing room after room before leaping through his own door to safety.
He fell back on the bed, panting, and looked at the bracelet that had betrayed him. Not for the first time, he tugged at it, wondering if it would come off. It had never been off that he could remember, never been replaced or made bigger. His arm had grown around it - it was embedded in his flesh. It was a permanent part of him now.
After lunch, he tore into his studies with renewed interest. Normally, he detested history. Now, he was eager to learn about how people lived before the Plague. To his surprise, most of his queries were denied or returned no results. There was plenty of information about the Plague itself - how a fanatical group engineered a biological weapon that destroyed eight out of every ten people - but he couldn't find out anything that happened before that time.
He could read how they had died but not how they had lived.
Eventually, frustration took its toll, and he clicked the screens off.
On a whim, he tried to connect with Shona. It rang over a dozen times before he shut it off. There was nowhere else she could be. She was there, and she was ignoring him.
He looked at the plain walls and the empty screens. "I'm here alone," he thought. "There are hundreds of people in this building, and I'm alone."
Part 4