May This New Land

At the stroke of midnight on the mark of the new year, Morgan kissed the cheeks of her parents and little brother for possibly the last time. No countdown. No confetti. Just a glance at the clock and an anxious wait for the list.

There were many ways to obtain the list. The names could be read from displays outside town hall buildings in every country around the world. Public readings could be televised or witnessed live. The Rey household, however, would follow their three generation old tradition of sitting around the dinner table listening to the reading of names through their radio.

Every year was the same. Morgan would spend the last day of the year with her family. Her father would roam the market for ingredients so her mother could make everyone’s favourite meals; Morgan’s was pumpkin soup. During dinner, her father would make the same comments as usual, most often about how crowded the tunnels were that day. Before her older sister moved away, Morgan and her siblings would bet on how many of their father’s common phrases he could repeat daily. They’d spend the rest of the night playing games, from mystery board games to puzzles like anagrams. And as midnight approached, the radio would be moved to the centre of the table while they awaited their possible fates.

<< It’s midnight on new year’s day and you’re tuning into Cedar Valley’s 78th annual name reading to decide which lucky folks get to live on the planet Vernon. Those selected at random will fly out at sundown. … Together, we’ll save humankind, one name at a time. Good luck, all! >>

<< From Ward 1, Pat Brenner. From Ward 2, …>>

Her brother must have noticed her hands trembling from the nerves. She felt instantly calm when he stretched his arm out across the table to hold her hand.

<< From Ward 10, …>>

The air was still between them, holding in their breaths before a name was revealed.

<< … Morgan Rey. >>

Everyone let out their breaths, but Morgan still held hers. The voice from the radio faded into a single high-pitched tone ringing loudly in her ear, as her family’s voices became background muffles. Her body felt lifeless as her parents and brother shot up out of their seats to embrace her.

“Morgy,” her mother held her face in her hands, bringing her back to reality. “You won, baby.”

“The second Rey to make it to the New Land!” her father exclaimed.

<< Congratulations to the chosen, and may this New Land liberate us all by liberating the few. >>

“What if I don’t want to go?” Morgan asked the following morning.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother replied, gathering Morgan's bags.

“I want to be where my family is.”

“You’ll be with Hollis.”

Morgan’s skepticism about Vernon began three years ago when her sister left. Hollis promised to call her when she’d arrived. It was the only promise to Morgan she ever broke.

“The servers are different on Vernon. Frequencies and whatever,” her mother failed to explain to her as a child. But Hollis would’ve found a way. Morgan could never shake the feeling that something about the New Land was being hidden from the people of Earth.

“Remember when you started kindergarten?” Her mother asked her. “How nervous you were? And by the end of the day, you were practically running that school. Sometimes, exciting opportunities might appear daunting. But you can’t let nerves stop you from achieving something greater.”

As Morgan rode the train to the meeting point, she wondered about Vernon. She looked onto the barren wasteland outside the window and imagined rolling in fields of green. As she exited the train with her gas mask on, she wondered what fresh air would feel like circulating in her lungs. For the first time, she entertained the idea of living in an environment as described by the old books she’d read and old films she’d watched. Despite the voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too good to be true, she had hope.

“Morgan Rey?” A young man in an officer’s uniform approached her as she stepped onto the spacecraft.

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

He guided her down an ill-lit hallway with metal walls. At the end of the hall stood a middle-aged couple and a young woman with square glasses waiting with their bags. He continued past them, then gestured for the four of them to follow.

“My name is Lark,” he started, as they trailed behind. “I’m the officer in charge of ensuring your safety on this spacecraft, and I’m here to make sure you all make it onto the secondary ship.”

They passed several rooms: the cafeteria, the control room. Then came the boarding zone, a closed-off area surrounded by white walls where they’d later board the secondary ship. They were finally brought to a room with two metal frame bunk beds on opposite sides.

“You’ll sleep here for the night,” he said, gesturing for them to enter. “Tomorrow evening, a ship will take you straight to Vernon.”

Morgan sat on the bottom bunk bed marked ‘Ward 10’, looking around the room. There was a level of enthusiasm for the New Land shown on Earth that this spacecraft didn’t emulate. The rooms were cold and dark, barely welcoming. Steel walls surrounded the space, like the rest of the ship. And Lark's demeanor was very stoic, but his soft eyes told a different story, reminding Morgan of her brother’s.

“Any questions about Vernon—”

“Does it snow?” Morgan interrupted.

“What?”

“Does it snow?” she repeated. “On Vernon.”

“As I was saying… any questions about Vernon should be posed to the officers on the secondary ship,” he said, briefly eyeing Morgan before taking his leave.

“It does,” the woman with glasses said, taking the bunk above Morgan. “…snow. I read about it somewhere. More often in some places, less often in others. Like on Earth, way back when.”

Morgan later learned that the woman with the glasses, from Ward 9, was the first from her family to go to the New Land. She also learned that the couple, both from Ward 11, had paid the original Ward 12 winner to take their place so they could live on Vernon together. They’d squeezed themselves into the bottom bunk of the other bed.

Morgan lay awake that night missing home. The pitch blackness of the room reminded her of how much she missed the moonlight that shone through her bedroom window. Then, she suddenly realized this room had no windows. Matter of fact, she couldn’t remember seeing any windows throughout the entire spacecraft. She would’ve appreciated a view; the sight of her home planet getting smaller and smaller, stars speckled across the infinite abyss. Maybe on the second ship, she thought.

She took out her book and flashlight, hoping to read herself to sleep. But as she turned on the flashlight, she noticed scratchings into the underside of the top bunk. Curious, she kept the light on the base board, realizing these etchings were in fact a message.

The tunnels to the market XXXX XX XXXXXXX XXXXX

The message had Hollis’ name written all over it. A puzzle. Like the ones they would solve as a family. Their father would always mutter the same phrase: “The tunnels to the market were so crowded today.” Morgan rearranged the underlined letters; an anagram she quickly decoded to spell ‘control room.’ Hollis must’ve found something in there during her time on this ship.

Morgan didn’t think twice before sneaking out of her room to finish whatever Hollis might’ve started. She wanted answers to the questions of skepticism keeping her awake. Once she reached the control room, she found Lark off to the side distracted by his comms device, while the entrance door was left opened a crack. She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.

Morgan’s flashlight illuminated a small space with a few computers on a table sitting against a weirdly pleated metal wall, and filing cabinets along the side. She darted to the cabinets, and began sifting through files. She had no aim, no direction, but amongst the many sheets, one line of phrase caught her eye.

“Docking point: Venus’ shadow…” she read.

Suddenly the door swung open. She stood face to face with Lark.

“You’re not allowed to be here,” he said, stepping towards her.

“Why aren’t there any windows?” Morgan asked.

“What?” He seemed constantly surprised by Morgan’s indifference towards him. To her, he was but a boy in an officer’s costume.

“There are no windows on this spacecraft. Do you know why?”

“Let’s go,” he ignored her, gesturing towards the door.

“It says, here…,” she pointed at the sheet in her hand, “… that this ship docks in Venus’ shadow. Why?”

He appeared puzzled, but his stern facial expression quickly returned.

“You didn’t know that, did you?” she asked.

“I—,” he stammered, trying to gather the last bits of his dignity after his failed attempts to remove her from the room and his authority being put into question. “My job doesn’t require me to know that.”

“Who’s does?”

“My bosses…,” he answered as though it were a question, “…space corporations, the government, I don’t know.”

“Venus’ shadow isn’t visible from Earth,” she said.

“So?”

“So, what happens after we leave this spacecraft that they don’t want people to figure out?”

“You get on the second ship.”

“Have you seen this second ship?”

“Yes—”

“In person. At the end of the boarding zone. Have you seen anyone step onto the ship and fly to Vernon? Have you even been to the planet yourself?”

He was still, his eyes unfocused. A presumed ‘no’ to both questions.

“Every year, you put people onto a ship you’ve never seen to a planet you’ve never visited.”

Lark, still frozen, was either listening to her every word or living in his head, questioning his judgment.

“‘Like Earth in its prime’ they say. ‘Breathable air, plentiful forests, bluer than blue oceans’. How do we know it’s as they say if no one on Earth has ever been, and those who have been have no way of telling us? What is on that planet that they don’t want us to know about?”

She felt winded, having let every question that ever wandered her mind leave her mouth in seconds.

“The answers to my questions are somewhere in this room. You have to let me find the truth.”

They stared at one another for a moment, although it became clear that Lark was looking through her, looking inward. But when his focus shifted back to Morgan, his stoic demeanour returned.

He simply pointed out the door with his head hung. Morgan wasn’t sure what else to do but comply. Although she knew she’d find a way back, with or without him.

Morgan had slept through the morning and made it to the cafeteria in time for lunch. The stew sitting before her made her wish she were back home devouring her mother’s pumpkin soup. She’d barely taken her first sips before Lark flashed into view taking the seat across from her.

“I was able to get the night shift to guard control room entrance,” he said with haste and his head down. “You’ll have about an hour to find whatever you need. Until the second ship comes to get you. Good?”

“But—”

“Good?” he interrupted, meeting her gaze.

She nodded and he was on his way.

She met up with him that night at the control room entrance.

“Be quick,” he said before letting her in.

She returned to the filing cabinets, scanning the papers for something useful. She was soon joined by Lark who looked through files on the computers. There was too much to look through in such a short span of time. Hollis wouldn’t have sent her here to read documents alone. Something was missing.

Morgan scanned the room: filing cabinets, computers — not much else. Although, she wondered why the back wall was designed in such a way, appearing pleated… like curtains.

Morgan raced to the edge of the wall to feel for some sort of cord, but instead found a button hidden where the table met the wall. She pressed the button and stepped back watching the metal drapes fold into itself from left to right, revealing a floor-to-ceiling window into outer space. She shared a look with Lark before gazing into the vast darkness. It was a breathtaking sight. All-consuming, with the potential to swallow her whole. Though it was dark in Venus’ shadow, they had a clear view of the boarding zone outer doors. She looked to Lark again expecting awe, but worry filled his face.

“What?” she asked.

“The second ships should be here by now.”

He grabbed his comms device from his belt and turned the sound on.

<< The secondary spacecraft for Wards 7-9 is now docked at the boarding zone. >>

They looked out the window to find the view unchanged, no second ship in sight.

<< Opening outer doors now. >>

The first thing Morgan saw exiting the outer doors was a pair of glasses. They reminded her of Hollis’, only not as square. But as they floated more into view, so did the face they belonged to. The woman from Ward 9. Her hands moved about her chest and neck frantically with her mouth open, gasping for air. And then she was still. Her lifeless eyes remained wide open as her limbs froze in place. Very soon, the other two people to came into view. They’d struggle to breath, fight to live, and then give into the abyss.

“This—” Lark shook his head. “This must be a mistake.”

“The tunnels are crowded…” Morgan whispered to herself.

“What?”

“Out of all my father’s phrases, my sister chose that one.”

She could hear the clicking of the computer mouse.

“There are too many people. In the tunnels. In Cedar Valley. On Earth… There is no Ve–”

<< Greetings. >>

Morgan jumped at the sound coming from the computer speaker. “What is that?”

“I found a recording. They play this once you reach the boarding zone.”

<< You’ve been chosen to go to the New Land. You were told that this New Land is the planet Vernon. This is false. Vernon does not exist. Your ‘New Land’ will be the afterlife. Earth’s resources are scarce, and therefore its population requires control. Your lives are being given for the greater good, so that humankind can live on. Thank you for your sacrifice, and may this New Land liberate us all by liberating the few. >>

Morgan sat next to Lark, feeling every ounce of energy leave her body.

“They sent us here to die,” she muttered. “My sister’s dead.”

Morgan could barely breathe. Her hands trembled. Tears filled her eyes. Then she felt something hold her hand, bringing her back to reality. Lark.

“The people deserve to know,” she said.

“What are we gonna do about it?” he asked.

“Can you get this recording to play through my town’s tunnel speakers?”

He flickered a smile, “More than just your town.” And he got to work.

“I trained to do this job for years,” he said as he typed away. “They lied to us. I won’t let anyone else die on my watch.”

Suddenly, the door busted open.

“You can’t be here,” an officer stood in the doorway, a baton in hand. Lark shot up from his seat.

“Officer Lark, I can explain,” Morgan shouted.

Lark seemed puzzled, but the officer’s reaction made Morgan’s intentions clearer.

“You just got here?” the officer asked him.

“Uh, yes… I was about to take her to the boarding zone.”

“We’ve been looking for her. I’ll take it from here” the officer led Morgan out the door. She gave Lark a subtle nod on her way out to let him know she could handle herself, leaving him alone to finish what they started.

Then she took off. Ran past the officer, zipping down the hallway while they tried to chase her down. But as she passed the cafeteria, the sound of uproar stole her attention. The sight was complete chaos amongst officers: yelling across tables, fights breaking out. “They’ve started rioting down there,” Morgan heard one say. “Blowing up spacecrafts and all. It's insane!”

Lark had done it.

Caught up in the moment, she hadn’t noticed the officer holding a baton high up in her periphery. As they swung it towards her head, she wondered if they knew the truth or if they were blindly following orders.

Morgan woke up surrounded by white walls. Bright fluorescents made her slow to open her eyes.

“No no no!” she cried. The boarding zone. She jumped to her feet, banging on the door, yelling for help, but it was no use.

<<Greetings, >> came from the speaker above her.

Her head spun as she fell back to the ground fatigued.

<< You’ve been chosen to go to the New Land… >> The recording blurred into a single high-pitched sound.

This is it, she thought. She wondered how Hollis felt when she was brought here, hearing a recording that confirmed her suspicions. Morgan hoped Hollis wasn’t alone like she was now. Although, she was glad the couple from Ward 11 weren’t here with her. She hoped they were safe, as well as Lark. It gave her peace knowing her family would never be sent to this place, knowing no one would ever be sent here again. She achieved something greater than herself. She hoped she made them proud. And though it wasn’t as she pictured, Morgan smiled to herself at the thought of being with her sister again.

<< Thank you for your sacrifice, and may this New Land liberate us all by liberating the few. >>