TEARS OF THE WILLOW

He had to know. As tired as he was, he had to see what was in the little package before he could sleep. The comterm panel glowed softly, the display blank. The eye of the vidsensor was probably still watching. He had to assume it was.

The vidsensors had been installed about twenty years before. Billy remembered the dark angry looks his father gave the new display screens with their hidden, watching eyes. Their family had never been the same after that.

Now he understood. Nothing could be a secret, even if it was terribly dangerous to the individual. His father hardly ever spoke after the "Director's Eyes", as he called them, were installed everywhere.

Children quickly learned the lesson of the vidsensors when they were punished for something they didn't think anyone saw them do. And always the threat that if you do something wrong, the "watchers" will know. They learned how to spot their location and how to hide their actions from them.

Billy's childhood tricks came into play. He causally got his outside jacket from the compartment and hung it over the back of the chair that faced the comterm. Pulling the chair out into the room he turned its back to the screen. Taking a cloth he wiped down the slick outer surface of the jacket. Just an efficient technician taking care of his equipment. His next move was to go to the cabinet, take out his boots and a plastic container of waterproofing. He sat in the chair with the jacket draped on the back, and began to apply waterproofing to the boots, leaning forward to work on the boots near the floor.

Now with the vidsensor effectively blocked by the jacket, he fished the package out of the boot and opened the outer black wrapping. Inside was a neat, yellow paper wrapping with a simple drawing of a dog. A sled dog. This had to have been for Matthew, he thought. Breaking the seal, he removed the contents. His heart was pounding. He stopped raised a boot to inspect it for the benefit of the watching eye.

The thought had occurred several times that he should be turning everything over to Security and be finished with it, but deep inside he knew he could not. He had a burning desire to know more about the world beyond this warm, safe hole in the ground. This was a real, physical contact with the Outside. Something that didn't come from the ever present Western Simulate which only sent directives and supplies. It opened up so many possibilities. Of course there were the late-night stories about wild bands of humans, or worse, the half-humans; scary tales for little kids. His father had always insisted there could be some truth to those horror stories. The defenses of the Center were enough to give anyone an idea of what the GNA expected to be out there. The laser guns were placed every 10 meters in the passways all the way down to Level 6, covering every major entrance route. Some said that could be turned around to mean "exit routes" as well. Billy had never believed that until he had taken over Matthew's duties. Now he knew it was impossible to get out of the Center if Security wanted you to stay inside. His question was, who keeps Security inside?

The contents of the package included a letter addressed to Matt and a series of different colored envelopes. There were no names, only simple drawings; symbols, like the dog for Matthew.

Billy was at a loss. How could he ever hope to find the persons these messages were intended for. Matthew must have known who they all were. Afraid he was spending too much time, he slipped everything inside his shirt, wrapped tightly in the strange old black plastic. Then moving with deliberate slowness, returned the boots and jacket to the wall compartment. The lights automatically dimmed as he left the room and headed up the passway toward the elevators.

He knew there was one place where the sensors were fewer, plus the moisture condensed on the lens and obstructed the Vidsensor's vision. One level up, Level-7, the green level; High white ceilings, brilliant, warm light, and living green everywhere. As

far as the eye could see there were trees, bushes, multi-colored flowers, and vines on gently curving arches. The smell was heady, moist, the richness of the carefully tended soil. The restoration of the air happened there. Brick and stone walkways crossed and recrossed the spaces. As a child he had spent the hours out of school here. He knew every corner, every nook of the public areas. The food producing areas occupied two thirds of the level and were not accessible except to the work crews. He had seen the larger trees grow to their full size in his short lifetime of thirty years.

There was a special corner, if it was still there. He walked as he always did, slowly and breathing deeply. It was impossible to imagine that all this green could ever exist out on the surface. Pretending interest in a particular flower, Billy left the walkway and slipped under the hanging branches. If he was wrong, he would be staring right into the face of a Vidsensor, but he was right. The trees had grown so thick that the long-forgotten eye was completely covered. As children they had hidden, giggling, in this same corner, but as adults it was almost an unknown experience to be unobserved. The Vidsensors were not forgotten, just pushed to the back of the mind like the color of the wall or ugly stains on the carpet. But everyone's behavior was conditioned by their presence and then the behavior became normal.

Guilt flashed across his every thought. He fought down the rising nervousness and concentrated on the letter addressed simply to...

My Dear Matt,

I'm sorry to have to write you that our sister Dorothy died last month. She was never well after we made the long move out here to the second camp. Last winter was real hard, and Dorothy had trouble with the cold. We should be used to it by now, but it's harder as we get older. I'm going to miss her company.

Anyway, for the rest of us, the second camp is better. There isn't any snow or ice for nearly two months. Lots of greens grow and we save every blade and leaf just like Dorothy taught us. Harold gets out and walks every day. He's going to be 70 this year. Your cousins are both ok, although Dean hurt his leg last winter and has trouble getting around. They send their best. I hear that the children that come from your place are beautiful, but awful small. They say a whole lot of children will come out after the spring thaw. There's a lady in our camp that saw some little children down at the Imperial Resort. Lots of rich Simulate folks down there.

Take care of yourself, we miss you. Don't feel too bad about Dorothy, she's better off now. Write when you can, we love your letters.

Your loving sister,

Louise

Billy did a very private thing...he cried, silent tears running down his face. He didn't know Dorothy or Louise, but it all seemed so real and close to him. Real living families out there. It was ordinary. Ordinary family things that touched his deepest memories. Matthew in his quiet, private way never letting on he had family and people who cared about him. No one in the Center cared about each other. Sterile people living sterile lives for what? He had so many questions and so few answers. He was almost afraid to consider the idea of no ice for two months and growing greens.

He handled the unopened packets, turning them over and over in his hands, trying to sense their contents and intended recipients. The blue packet caught his eye. There was a stick figure holding the hand of a much smaller figure, obviously an adult and child. It could mean Miss Marzon. How strange that she should come down from Level-6 searching for Jed. Was she searching for Jed? What if she was really trying to find me, he thought, because she knew a packet was due? How many people knew that I replaced Matthew on the Microwave Station runs?

He turned back to the packets. The red plastic envelope concerned him greatly. He had no contact with anyone from Level-10, the red level. It was strictly forbidden to even speak causally to someone wearing the official red GNA emblem. Possibly one was for Jed; he worked in Service and also he worked on Level-6 with Miss Marzon. For a moment he considered opening all the packets. Their contents surely contained more information. But then he would be no better than the Security spies.

Keeping just the blue packet, which he was almost sure was intended for Miss Marzon because of her strange behavior, Billy wrapped the rest in the black plastic and carefully pulled up a small tree by its slender trunk. The earth was shallow, barely 30 centimeters in this area, so plants developed shallow root bases which readily lifted up when pulled. The package slipped neatly under the roots and the hiding place was quickly secure. Careful to brush off any stray dirt or leaves, Billy returned to the walkway and continued his stroll.

He knew he could see her in the morning before his shift started in the electronics lab. She walked every morning with the older children across the green level to their classroom area. He often saw her, though they rarely spoke. She always seemed so private and hesitant to speak to someone outside her level.

Later in his quarters, his sleep was fitful. He kept waking and thinking of Matthew's sister and how she saved greens that grew on the ground. Grew on the ground in some place where the snow and ice melted for 2 months every year! He had never seen real earth, except what they had on Level-7. He knew she must be a warm, gentle person, very much like those deep, early memories of his own mother. She wrote about the spring thaw. What could that mean? The ideas got all mixed up and jumbled together.

Night sounds

Leaves stirred. A breeze touched him with tiny needles of yearning, and then nothing. Never far into the waiting lapse of memory could he flow, but rather into the near mist of angular wanting, jagged need that climbed the vast stretches of dreams. He moved with a soft sigh, wafting through green leaves like a cloudshadow, borne by the wind until it dissipates with no sense of its having been at all. He ached to be solid, to sense the strong feelings that touched him and retreated.

A companion flow, nearmist like himself. She desired, reaching out but never more than a fleeting contact, forced to contain every emotion, every biting desire and craving. Close it, clamp it down, sew it shut. Little tendrils slipped out and fled into his waiting emptiness. Bitter drops splashed all around the wind-torn leaves.

He lay still a long time after the dream jarred him back to wakefulness. The dream was so insistent, touching deeply into his emotions. Each time he remembered the same dream--over and over. It happened regularly every ten days. It had been the same dream he tried to explain to his father when he was eight years old. Getting some understanding was futile and his school friends laughed at him. His visions of being part of a tree and the longing--he couldn't even describe the strong emotions, especially the desperate longing that swept over him and often jolted him awake, heart beating, body drenched in sweat. After the laughter and rebukes, he stopped talking about it. The dreams became a part of his private self. In the last few years, the waking images seemed to be softer, less intense.

Sleep claimed his tired body for a nonrestful hour before he was wide awake again, mind full of dream images and anxiety about the coming day.

The hotcup refill was so hot it burned his lips. Body sore and head feeling thick, Billy hunkered over the cup blowing to cool it down. The Level-8 snack area was almost empty. Adjoining the large Yellow-Meeting, this smaller area provided a serve yourself facility for on-duty personnel and techs coming off or on odd-hour shifts.

Clove was surprised to see Billy. "What are you doing here at 7:30? I thought you were on holiday today after your outside duty yesterday."

"I couldn't sleep. I guess its the stimulation of all that unfiltered outside air and exercise."

Clove laughed. "The dogs do all the work."

"That's what you think", countered Billy. "When they go up a hill, you push as hard as they are pulling."

Clove was just as surprised when Billy abruptly stood up.

"I'll see you later. I have some things to do." Leaving the table, Billy walked quickly toward the main entrance.

Billy had never been secretive. Clove thought he knew his friend as well as anyone, but he wasn't so sure this morning.

Marble Marzon turned back to speed up two children who were dropping behind the cheerful, chattering group which was working their way across the green level on one of the secondary pathways. She didn't notice the serious-faced figure that stood waiting at the intersection of the main walkway. Before she recognized Billy, her first reaction was to freeze momentarily.

Billy could see the instant fear, and wondered what could bring on such an extreme reaction at just seeing a different person in a relatively public place. He also began to doubt the wisdom of his own actions.

"Miss Marzon?...Good morning. I'm sorry if I startled you."

She flashed a weak smile. "Oh, Mister Crane, ah... Billy, I just didn't notice you. My mind was on the children." Her eyes sought the comforting peace of trees and leaves.

Continuing, Billy spoke softly but quickly. "I knew you were upset last night when you came to the Yellow-Meeting, but I didn't understand...I still don't, but that's not important. I was out on the ice yesterday making a repair run to the microwave stations."

The fear returned to her eyes and she seemed anxious to follow the children who were beginning to spread out along the pathways. "Jed is still missing...He didn't come to work this morning. I really..."

Billy continued, "You know I replaced Matthew?"

"Oh, yes, I know..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes concentrated on the disappearing children.

"let them go, they know the way."

She looked back at him. He knew she didn't trust him.

Billy took the plunge as their eyes met. "I found something out there that I probably should have reported, but I didn't." He could barely hear Marble's response.

"Why didn't you report what you found?"

"I... I'm not sure. I was hoping that you..."

"Come, we'd better walk slowly," she said already moving down the path.

They moved after the children, whose distant shouts of laughter announced that they were enjoying the brief respite from supervision. As they walked, Billy told her about the Polar Bears at the station, the dead man, and lastly about finding the package. Her face showed little emotion, but he could see she was listening very carefully.

"The man brought a small package that he hid in a place where someone would be sure to find it. He did that much before he died."

"And you brought the package back with you?"

"Yes. It was full of small packets with symbols on them...all different colors."

The fear flashed in her face. She looked up and down the walkway. "Where...?"

" I've hidden them in a safe place, but I've got one packet with me that I believe should be given to you. And if it should, then you must know something about this mysterious contact with someone outside regular GNA channels...?"

Marble looked him straight in the eyes for a brief moment. "We cannot talk further!" There was a fierce determination in her manner that surprised him.

"But I would really like to..."

Her look stopped him. "Not now! Give me the packet and I'll find a way to explain the importance of this. You saved many dedicated people by not reporting, but you are in more danger than you realize. Please don't say anything to anyone about this!"

She suddenly dropped her personal bag, whispering fiercely, "Give me the packet! Quickly!"

It was his turn to be startled by her fast reaction. Billy bent to retrieve the bag and when he handed it to Marble, the blue packet was under it.

"Now go, not another word." She turned and hurried after the children.

He bowed slightly and walked slowly back the way he had come, his head reeling with still another event that was out of the ordinary in this world of planned existence and predictable behavior. The warm scent of the vegetation went unnoticed.

Copyright © 1999 by Gale Peterson