Human Free

Chapter 2

Flora B. Harper, Chairperson of the Gaian System, swivel-rolled out of bed, inserted her soft, fatty feet into her new plush pink slippers and heaved her mass into a semi-erect position.

She pulled the master key from its cradle on her nightstand and hung the rough-hewn blue-purple Tanzanite gem around her neck, its platinum chain jingling. Soft lights came on from behind wall panels. Translucent orange panels retracted behind her to reveal glass wall.

Flora walked around her bed to the window and contemplated her African blood lilies. Tall and deep red, each flower was in fact a community of two-hundred or more tiny tendrils reaching toward the sky for life, no matter that their bloom lasted only two weeks. Too perfect. Neither her alone nor humanity in its entirety could match their evolution.

She tilted her head left. "Environmental Cooperation." The line beeped in her ear.

"Yep," said a tired male voice.

"I want the blood lilies harvested today. Cut them all down. You should have done it already. I want them on every table at the feast."

The voice sputtered and seemed to correct its posture. "Yes, Chairperson! Anything else, Chairperson?"

Flora tilted her head right to break the connection.

Bone knocked on hard wood and a wave of stress rippled through her.

"What!" she screamed, reveling in her loss of control.

"It's me," a male voice said.

"I'm not ready yet!" Her voice was half buzzsaw, half drill sergeant.

"Happy Restoration of Balance Day, honey!" The voice was meek and plaintive. It disgusted her.

She waddled back past her bed and straight to the heavy, oak door. She flipped off the deadbolt and whipped it open.

A rail-thin man, his chest caved in and his head leaning precipitously forward stepped back, his mouth hanging open.

"We haven't restored the balance yet, now have we!" She wagged a meaty finger under his pointed nose. "Close your mouth and stand up straight!"

He flashed her a thin grin and took another step back. "Didn't you get your beauty sleep, darling? This is why we need to sleep together again. You see that now, surely?"

Her toes tensed and her lower back muscles burned. "I told you, Philip, I will inform you when I am ready!" She stepped back, slammed the door and forced her breath to slow.

Bone tapped oak again. She held her breath and opened the door, ready to snap her husband's weak frame in two.

"Everyone is waiting...?" Philip said.

"For what!"

"Your speech. It's Restoration Day, remember?"

A cold chill tightened her back. She blinked and looked up to activate her heads-up display. After 9? Already? And an eighty percent chance of rain. She rolled her eyes. Flora, you idiot. "I'll be right out!"

She threw the door shut and trotted back to her closet. She pulled her sleepshirt up and over her chest, where it stuck. "Goddamnit!" She kicked her feet, pulled again and a seam popped with the rat-a-tat of machine gun fire.

"Another one?" She thought back to the time before the machines when people assembled clothing. Then you could get quality. If you had the money, of course, which she always did. But now? Well, it just wasn't important anymore. If you were going to live, you might as well do things right - or not at all. Dad was right about that!