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I nod.
Amy clutches my arm, squeezing it as I imagine Steela held her arm. “Elder, we’ve got to do something. This isn’t right. It’s not fair. These are people, whether or not Doc or Eldest sees them as such. That drug is evil. You shouldn’t control people like this!” Her eyes gaze past me, and I know she’s no longer with me: she’s up on the fourth floor. “That drug makes people obey. It’s just Eldest and Doc’s sick way of controlling the ship. ”
A part of me, a very small part of me that I bury so deep inside me I hope Amy never sees it, thinks that not all of what Eldest and Doc are doing is wrong. After all . . . it’s worked. The ship has run in peace for decades.
And then I remember the dead look in her eyes when she was drugged with Phydus, and the feel of her arms just now, and I push that part deeper down.
“And—oh, no!” Amy’s face dissolves into more tears. “I’ve just remembered! My parents, down in the cryo level! I’ve not been down there all day! What if something has happened?”
She lurches up as if to stand, but I grab her wrist, and with the barest of tugs, she tumbles back onto the bed.
“How could I have forgotten them?” she wails.
I place both my hands around her face and lift her head so she can look me in the eyes.
“Calm down,” I say in as steady a voice as I can muster. “Harley has been on the cryo level all day. You don’t have to worry about that now. I’ll go next and spend the night there. ”
Amy’s watery eyes flick back and forth between mine.
“I’m so useless,” she sighs. “I can’t do anything but hide here and cry like a little girl! Look at me!” I look, but I don’t think I see her the same way she sees herself. “It’s pointless! I can’t save my parents, I have no idea who’s been killing the frozens, and this ship—it’s the worst—and I’m stuck here for the rest of my life, surrounded by drugged up people who go to the fourth floor to die and become fertilizer!”
She breaks again. It’s like watching the glass top of Amy’s cryo chamber break when Doc heaved it off the night she woke up. For a moment, I can see the pieces of Amy all loosely together; then, starting with her eyes and her trembling mouth, she shatters. Her hands are against the sides of her forehead, her fingers curling around her hair. She softly beats her palms against her head, willing herself to think, tugging at her hair, pulling strands from her scalp, seemingly oblivious to her self-inflicted pain. I reach up and gently unwind her hair from her fingers and pull her hands back down into her lap.
“We can figure this out,” I say, dipping my head down so I can catch her gaze. “Don’t give in. You’re not useless. ”
I catch a glance at the wall across from us, at the big painted black chart Amy started.
“You’re the one who’s going to figure this thing out. Keep doing what you’ve been doing. Figure out what the connection is. ” I reach over to her desk and hand her the jar of black paint and the brush. “You can do this. ”
Amy looks up at her painted wall, and for a moment she’s focused on it. Then I see frustration and hopelessness wash over her face. Before she has a chance to break again, I jump up and go over to the chart, distracting her. “Keep working on it. ” I pause. “Try to figure out how these are connected,” I add, indicating everyone on the list but her. “Remember: you woke up, but survived. Maybe you weren’t meant to be unplugged; maybe you were an accident or something. You’re the one who doesn’t really fit into the list. Try looking at how they’re all connected when we take you out of the picture. ”
Amy stares at the chart a moment longer, then nods slowly.
I stand, hesitate, then bend down and kiss her on the top of her head. She looks up at me, and my heart surges, and even though I can still see traces of hopelessness in her face, I have enough hope for the future for both of us.
“I’ll go down there and watch over your parents. You need to rest,” I say. I touch the side of her face, and she nuzzles her head against my palm. “You’ll be fine,” I add, and I hope she can believe it.
I hope I can believe it.
67
AMY
MY FINGERS ARE STAINED BLACK WITH PAINT. I EXAMINED MY list of suspects first, but there was little to do there. It is Eldest, or perhaps Eldest and Doc together.
But why? If I can figure out their reason, I’ll know what to do next.
I have stared at the wall until the lines and words blur together. I’ve added all the information I could from their charts, even the info that seems irrelevant. It cannot be random. Eldest and Doc do not act randomly.
I fall asleep with the wet paintbrush still in my hand.
Across the Universe
68
ELDER
THE CRYO LEVEL IS SILENT, A DEEP, PENETRATING SILENCE that makes me feel like a trespasser in a private place.
