Short Stories
By Scott Niven
This Is Not Your Mother’s Earth
Bill glanced away from his book to find Lexie peeking her head through his doorway.
“Morning,” she said. “Ready?”
“Sure. Hold on a sec.”
Though he knew he would never pick up the book again, Bill marked his place between the pages. Then he stood and eyeballed his room. The twenty by twenty windowless chamber contained the standard items issued to a man of eighteen: queen-sized floor cushion, toilet, set of free weights, and a bookshelf full of the latest bestsellers, novels by Paula Ryton, Julia James, Mary Higgins Clark, and Beverly Moonwater.
When he spotted his robe pinned beneath the edge of the floor cushion, he pointed. “Think I need it?”
Lexie studied his naked torso with her usual expression of feigned disinterest. “Well, yeah. I’d put it on. Why not?”
Her discomfort made him smile. “All right, Lexie. I’ll wear it. For you.”
“Bill! Don’t tease. If you only knew...”
Bill studied Lexie’s reddening face as he slipped into the robe and felt guilt wash over him. They could never be together. He knew that, and so did she.
“Sorry, Lex.”
“S’okay.” She motioned him out of the room. “Now c’mon. You’re going to be late.”
Bill followed her into the hallway. The overhead fluorescents reflected off the white cement walls and the shining black squares of floor tile, bathing the lengthy corridor in an uncomfortable level of brightness.
Bill shielded his eyes while listening to Lexie talk.
“You’re going to like this one, Bill. She’s beautiful.”
“Oh, yeah? Where’s she from?”
“Florida. Think Daytona, but forgot to check. Sorry.”
Thoughts of surf and sand and tanned legs and blond hair drifted through Bill’s mind. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a surprise.”
The corridor stretched forever, with doorways on the left and right every twenty feet. There were no doors. The removal of those fixtures had occurred ten years ago when the World Government decided a closed door promoted aloofness.
As they passed each doorway, Bill searched the rooms for his friends. He saw no one, of course. It was eleven-fifteen, and that meant everyone was at work. The only reason he had been allowed to stay in his room longer than everyone else was because of the specialness of his day.
Lexie spoke his thoughts. “So. Last one, huh?”
“That’s what they tell me. And you know, Lex, I can smell that red licorice already.”
They both laughed at the old joke. Then Lexie put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him in the hall. Her smile disappeared.
“Bill, thanks for letting me work with you. I know you had thousands of choices, and it could’ve been anyone, but for whatever reason, you chose me. Thanks.”
Bill waved a hand through the air. “You were great. I couldn’t have chosen better.”
Actually, he had selected her at random. On his eighteenth birthday, he had tried previewing all of the 10,953 assistants available. After several days of contemplation, however, the women had blurred together, melding into a jumbled mesh of pretty faces, strong muscles, and five-page resumes. He had eventually just pointed at the Select-An-Assistant screen and let chaos choose for him.
Still, Lexie had been great. He would hate not to see her again.
The corridor continued for another five minutes before opening into the Chamber, a large amphitheater with rows and rows of seats lining all sides of its sunken rounded pit. The seats rose one hundred feet into the air in gradually widening concentric circles.
Currently, all the seats were empty.
Bill stared up at that emptiness and felt something stir inside him.
“You okay?” Lexie asked. “You look strange.”
“Fine. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“You? Overwhelmed? Don’t expect me to believe that. You’ve done this too many times to feel overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, well, this time it’s different.” Bill grinned. “Different in an exciting way, of course, but different nonetheless.”
Lexie smiled and rolled her eyes. “Always kidding, aren’t you? Now, let’s go. Time, as they say, is a-wasting.”
They walked side-by-side across the pit, their feet shuffling over an earth composed of dark black soil. Unlike the black tile in the hallway, however, the surface they now walked on failed to reflect light. No one wanted a glare when the amphitheater was displayed on television.
At the center of the Chamber, a small white building stood alone. The elevator. They stopped walking when they neared it.
“Now, what?” Bill asked.
Lexie wiggled her nose and grinned. “Nothing’s changed, silly. Just because this is the last doesn’t mean the basic procedures are any different. Go to the elevator and ride it down.”
Bill paused. “Well, I guess I better do that."
Lexie grabbed his hands. “Yeah, I guess you better. You always do. And you always, always, always come back grinning.”
Bill smiled and squeezed her hands. God, how he’d miss this woman!
He released her, then turned and walked to the elevator. As he approached the wall nearest him, the wall opened with a fizz-fizz sound that always reminded Bill of the noise a cola made when poured into a glass.
He stepped inside the elevator, then turned to face the opening. “Bye, Lexie.”
Lexie waved. Bill thought he saw tears in her eyes. “Bye, Bill. I’ll be watching for you. Section H, row nineteen, seat four.”
Then Lexie vanished from his view as the wall shut. Bill sighed.
“Good morning, Bill,” the elevator computer said in a metallic female voice. “Got some great news for you on your special day. Just received word that Vera Nine has been diagnosed as pregnant. And get this. She’s pregnant with twins! Both girls! Congratulations!”
Bill’s melancholy attitude disappeared. He felt a smile climb onto his face. “Vera Nine, huh? Last Monday?”
“That’s right. Monday.”
“Had a feeling, you know. Not sure how, but I did.”
The elevator lurched into motion, jerking downward at an uneven pace.
“Whoops. Sorry about that, Bill.” The ride smoothed. “Guess I’m nervous.”
Bill laughed. “Since when do computers get nervous?”
“Why, I’m nervous for you, of course. You’re the youngest ever. Ninety-one days. Incredible.”
The elevator thudded to a stop.
“And now,” the elevator said in a sing-song voice, “behind door number one...”
“Stop, stop,” Bill said. “You’re going to make me laugh. I can’t very well walk in on her giggling, can I?”
“Lisa Fourteen didn’t seem to mind.”
Bill couldn’t prevent his laughter. “All right, already. Open the wall.”
The wall opened and there she was, a beautiful blond buried beneath the bedsheets of an enormous queen-sized bed. As Bill stepped into the room, he heard the elevator say goodbye and heard the wall fizz close. The sounds came to him from a distance, a distance created by the overwhelming power of the girl’s beauty. Lexie hadn’t lied. A Florida girl of his dreams.
“Hi, Bill,” the blond said with a grin. “Looks like I’m the last. You going to keep your eighty-two percent track record intact?”
“Gonna try,” he said, moving to the bed. The rest of the room was empty. No furniture, no doors, no windows.
No distractions.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
The blond sat up in bed, shoved the pillow to the wall, then leaned against it. “Shirley. Shirley Twenty-two.”
“Nice to meet you, Shirley.” Bill slipped out of his robe. “Ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
The sex lasted one hour and forty-six minutes. Of course to Bill, it wasn’t sex. Not anymore. No, after sleeping with ninety-one different women over the last ninety-one days, sex had become a dance, a performing art that continually needed perfecting. Bill took his responsibility seriously. His caresses, whispers, kisses, and thrusts were designed to please her, not himself.
In the end, however, the experience concluded the way all of these couplings had to conclude.
With his orgasm.
“Thanks, Bill,” Shirley said, looking suddenly modest. She climbed out of bed and wiggled into a dress.
“No need to thank me. I enjoyed it.” Bill nestled his head deeper into the pillow. Fifteen minutes remained until he had to leave. “What do you do for a living?”
Shirley sat on the edge of the bed while lacing up her shoes. “I’m a doctor. A cardiologist. Work out of Janice Memorial in Miami. Ever been there?”
“No, but I’ve seen pictures. Those hospitals, they look nice.”
“They’re wonderful.” Shirley coughed, stood, then bent over and kissed Bill on the cheek. “Well, I gotta go. Thanks again. You’re a cool kid. I have a feeling you’re going to be the one for me.” She eyed the room. “After four years of this, I certainly hope so.”
The wall opened.
“Bye,” Bill said.
Shirley turned. She shook her head sadly in Bill’s direction. “Oh, and I’m afraid I’ll have to miss the licorice. I’ve got a consultation with a client in an hour, so I’ve got to get back to Miami. I wish you luck, though.”
Bill nodded. He wasn’t surprised. If she had said she was going to stay, now that would have surprised him. He wondered how many of the other women would actually be there.
After the elevator whisked Shirley away, Bill wrapped himself in his robe and reexamined the room. Though he had seen it almost a hundred times, it looked different today. The gray walls looked closer and darker. The ceiling lower. The floor grimier. He knew this vision was incorrect. The walls and ceiling never changed, and the room was sterilized on a daily basis by a three-person team of cleaners.
Still, the room did seem different. As he walked toward the elevator wall, he pushed his imaginative thoughts away, letting his excitement over his accomplishments fill his thinking. He’d done it. After ninety-one attempts, he had impregnated his seventy-five women. Seventy-six, if he counted Vera Nine, the woman who had been diagnosed with twins. And several of the other women from this week might be pregnant as well.
But it was the number of days that mattered most to Bill. Ninety-one. A new speed record. One that would hopefully stand for generations to come. His name, of course, would be praised throughout the world. He knew that. And as the elevator wall fizzed open, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Ahem,” said the elevator. “Smiling, are we? Did it go that well?”
“It was a fitting finale.”
“That’s what Shirley said. You’re quite the star with the ladies. Too bad this was the last.”
The elevator screeched, then began moving upward.
“Elevator?” Bill asked.
“Yes.”
“What do most men do at this point? Before the licorice?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You guys tend to get self-absorbed. It’s not a big deal, though. Really. Don’t worry about it.”
“Not worried. Just curious.”
The elevator stopped moving. They had arrived at the Chamber.
“I’ll tell you what you should do, then. Think of something memorable, something unusual, to say to the masses. Something they’ll never forget.” The elevator laughed. “As if your performances in bed could ever really be forgotten. I watched them all, you know.”
Bill felt heat on his cheeks. “Stop. Please.”
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
There was a click as the roof of the elevator slid open. Bill heard an anticipatory rumbling. Then the four walls of the elevator separated at the corners. Each side peeled open, slowly, like a flower spreading its petals to reveal the stigma.
Then, as the four walls sank into the dark black soil, fifty thousand women welcomed Bill to the Chamber.
They covered the seats around him, ringing him in loop after loop of beauty, each circular row combining with the next to create a wavy sea of women that cheered, whistled, clapped and smiled in his direction. Cameras flashed from everywhere, blinding him, while above, dozens of videocameras from the networks and cable stations captured the moment for the entire world.
Bill had known what to expect, but the magnitude of the event still caught him off guard. He stood without moving for several minutes before remembering to wave. Immediately, the crowd responded to his acknowledgment. Some women threw roses at him. Others held up signs to show their love. Bill spied one banner that read, THANKS, BILL. MY DAUGHTER’S GOING TO HAVE A BABY GIRL IN SEVEN MONTHS. WE LOVE YOU!
But though he appreciated the efforts of his fans, there was one fan in particular he wanted to see the most. He counted sections, then rows, then seats until locating her. Lexie. He smiled and she smiled back. This time he was sure she was crying. Part of him wanted to cry with her, but now certainly wasn’t the time for that. He had a tradition to uphold.
He gave Lexie a wink, then surveyed the rest of the pit. Though the women occupied every seat, and though the videocameras dangled down from above, the black soil around him had nothing on it.
Except, Bill knew, for the spot ten feet behind him.
He turned and heard the cheers strengthen as he faced the pit’s other occupant.
A bed. A queen-sized bed, sitting alone, its cushions covered with white sheets chosen to provide a contrast to the black soil.
Bill walked toward it.
A chant of “Bill, Bill, Bill” rose throughout the Chamber. By the time he arrived at the foot of the bed, the intensity of the chant vibrated the air.
Bill looked into the audience and bowed, as he had seen other men do on television as they reached this point in the ceremony. No other man had ever earned as large a crowd as Bill’s, however. And the cheers had never been as loud as they were today.
He was, he realized with a twinge of embarrassment, a living legend.
After bowing, he studied the bed. It had no headboard, because a headboard would prevent many members of the crowd from watching. There was a fluffed pillow, however. And atop the pillow, a foot-long strand of red licorice lay horizontally, a note propped in an inverted V behind it.
Bill grabbed the note and read it, then waved it before the crowd.
The crowd hushed.
“This note is from the World President herself,” Bill said, rushing his words together.
The crowd oohhed and aahed. The World President had never written a note to a man before.
Bill cleared his throat. “The note says, and I quote, ’Bill, you are a World Hero. You have done well, and I, on behalf of the World Government, would like to personally thank you for your efforts. Good luck, boy, and God speed.’ It’s signed Tabitha L. Sumter, World President.”
The crowd cheered. Bill half-sat, half-collapsed onto the corner of the bed, his head swimming with pride. When he reached for the licorice, the crowd noise deafened him with its volume. He peeked into the audience at Lexie. She waved, her hand a soft flutter in a sea of hard clapping. He held the licorice high in the air, savoring the moment, before lowering it to his lips. It smelled pungent, a peppery-garlic odor that tickled his nose with its strength.
Without further hesitation, Bill took a bite.
The crowd roared.
He took another bite. Then another. The tough skin of the licorice reminded him of salami. Not fresh salami, but week-old salami whose flavor had frayed around the edges.
Bill kept eating.
When he finished the licorice, a fireworks display began in the open sky. Bill smiled at the many sparkles of color that danced and popped above him. A bitter aftertaste clung to his tongue and extended down his throat, but he hardly noticed. Aftertaste was something a World Hero could ignore.
As the fireworks ended, he held up a hand in an effort to silence the crowd. The elevator had told him he should say something memorable, something unusual, and Bill knew exactly what he wanted to say.
But with the formalities of the ceremony out of the way, the crowd didn’t want to stop cheering. Once again, they began chanting his name.
“Bill, Bill, Bill!!!”
Bill began to feel a little sleepy.
He continued to wave his hand, still hopeful he could silence the crowd. After another minute of failure, however, he gave up, looked at his adoring audience, and found Lexie. Then he yelled his memorable and unusual phrase in her direction.
“I love you, Lexie!”
No one heard it, of course. Not over the roar of the crowd. But Lexie seemed to smile at him for a moment before burying her head in her hands. Bill yawned. He lifted his feet onto the bed, inciting the crowd into a standing ovation. Police women patrolled the edge of the amphitheater, preventing the crowd from stampeding onto the pit’s floor. An old superstition said that whoever touched a man lying on the Chamber bed would have good luck for years.
As Bill rested his head on the pillow, the tiredness crept further inside him. He tried to look into the audience, to see Lexie, but couldn’t remember where she was. Everything was foggy.
When he closed his eyes, he found he could no longer reopen them.
And the bed felt so comfortable.
As he lay there, listening to his name reverberate throughout the Chamber, one thought danced through his head.
I’m a hero. They all said so. A World Hero.
Then he smiled and fell asleep forever.
End
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