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Immediately I suspect something terrible has happened. Did they not believe her about A566?

  “Why is she not there?”

  A350 replaces the recording of the empty cell with an image of the arena where the classification fights take place. It’s empty, just like Zoe’s cell. “D523 is no longer in the sickbay.”

  My face wrinkles in question and I forbid myself even the smallest hope. “Where is she then?”

  Finally A350 redeems my inquisitiveness with a benevolent smile. “She is back in the safety zone and was added to the janitorial department, the same as D577.”

  That’s far more than I dared to hope. Now Zoe can spend her whole day with her brother. I know A350 has to be responsible. I would love to hug her in gratitude, but maybe my behavior would scare her. Therefore I opt for a grateful nod. “And what about C515?”

  “After your statement, there was no reason to distrust him any longer. However, I am of the opinion that he did his job as a guard extraordinarily well and have therefore assigned him to a similar task.” She stops and grins at me. “Since Zoe no longer needs a guard, I considered it appropriate to use him as a guard in the Legion commander sphere. He will begin his service today.”

  A joyful cry escapes my throat. Clyde will now be with me. Finally, I am no longer alone. Now I have not only Asha, but also Clyde at my side.

  “I do not know how I can ever thank you for it,” I reply. Why is she doing all this for me? It cannot solely be because she is a good person.

  “I hope you will be okay. There must never again be such a thing as what A566 did. You cannot imagine how guilty I was because I could not protect you.” She takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “You can trust me.”

  “I know,” I blurt out quietly because I lack the voice to speak. I really do. I feel it. A350 makes me feel safe. Her concern is honest.

  “What will happen to A566?”

  A350 disfigures her mouth angrily. “The other Legion commanders were of the opinion that declassification would indicate the failure of a Legion commander and therefore would not be possible. We have decided to withdraw his permission to leave the Legion commander sphere and revoke his voting rights. He is basically no more than a prisoner.”

  A prisoner in a golden cage, I think angrily. I would prefer to never see him again. But maybe it is better not to let him loose on the unsuspecting inhabitants of the safety zone. Who knows what he would have done there.

  “But now we will continue with your training. I should have discussed today’s topic with you days ago, but you know what was going on. Mating fights are now imminent, so it is therefore important that you learn about propagation in the Legion. Do you have any questions?”

  It’s amazing how quickly A350 can change from the role of the understanding and caring friend to being the strict teacher.

  She asks me if I want to ask a question. Is that a joke? I could ask her a hundred questions and would still have more to ask. I want to start at the beginning and tell her what I already know, or what I believe to know.

  “The first generation celebrated their farewell at the age of sixty years, as it is intended for all generations after them. Each generation is about ten years apart. However, this only applies to the first five generations. After that, each generation will be created every five years in order to increase the population of the Legion. Each generation consists of 99 people...”

  A350 interrupts me. “Wrong!”

  Confused, I look at her. “But each generation numbered from one to ninety-nine.”

  “The reason is that the hundredth child of each generation is sent to the Central Legion in order to represent each Legion. This means in the Central Legion, there is a woman of your generation that carries the designation W500. W for West. Equally there are N500, S500, and O500. Every generation in each Legion thus has one hundred people.”

  I never knew how the Central Legion was built. Until recently I did not know there were any other Legions, let alone a Central Legion. However, it is a mystery to me how a person who never grew up with us represents us. But I’m not here to discuss or to question, I’m to find answers.

  “Okay, so each generation has a hundred people. Half of which are male and the other half is female. Can the gender of each baby be controlled?”

  A350 dismisses this question amusedly. “The people of the ancient world even knew how to do that, but it was forbidden. Each person has a unique strand of deoxyribonucleic acid, abbreviated as DNA. It consists of many chromosomes, which are the carriers of genetic information. The chromosomes determine whether a person will develop male or female sexual characteristics. It is easy for us to influence this decision directly after conception. Similarly we can define the talent and appearance of the child.”

  I know from personal experience that the Legion suppresses the natural look of people with drugs in their food, but they do not completely extinguish these differences. Why if it is easily possible?

  “The Legion affects talent and appearance?”

  “Not every generation can consist of Legion commanders and researchers, just as a generation cannot consist of only workers and fighters. There must be those who give orders and those who carry them out. A Legion commander should therefore possess leadership qualities, such as willingness to help, loyalty, and trust.”

  Finn would describe it as naïve, but I do fear her explanations. Is there nothing that distinguishes me as a unique human being? Are genes some kind of game the Legion can play with as they please? Could some other fifth generation girl just as easily received the same genes I did and turned out the exact same way?

  “So the Legion can determine who will be a Legion commander before birth and who will fulfill the other roles? Why do we spend years learning and taking performance tests?”

  A350 notices my disappointment and shakes her head quickly. “No! Although we can only manipulate a small number of genes, there are still thousands within the 46 chromosomes that comprise DNA that we do not alter. Each individual chromosome contributes to the personality of a person, as well as a person’s accumulated experience. Although we manipulate DNA, everyone still has a chance to be a Legion commander. There are developments we cannot foresee, like yours.”

  She smiles at me encouragingly, but I am too confused and upset to be happy. “Are there any records about which genes are altered? What was the original role for the genes that were altered in me?”

  A350 sighs loudly. “There are records, but they are of no significance. What matters is who you are now.”

  I would like to see the records. There should be so much more information there. If the altered genes are listed, the entire genetic code of every human being must be listed there. If I were to see this information, I could find out who my parents were. But even if I did, they would not be real parents, not like Finn and Zoe had.

  I breathe a deep breath and try to concentrate. There are a hundred people per generation. How was it possible for Finn and Zoe to be injected into the Legion? What happened to their predecessors?

  D523 and D577 didn’t always live in the safety zone. What happened to the people who used to have their designation?”

  A350 does not seem to like this question, but she makes an effort to answer me honestly. “The Legion is not perfect. We can fight many diseases and have been able to eradicate some completely. Nevertheless, there are some malformations, some illnesses that are diagnosed late. Often too late. The first D523 died of a heart attack at the age of five years. Her heart did not grow at the same rate as her body and was eventually too weak to keep the girl alive. That is why it is important to the Legion that all people look the same. Only then is it possible that a loss goes unnoticed. People feel safer when they are unaware of such things.

  I always thought I had an eye for detail, but even I never noticed that a child had disappeared. It never occurred to me.

  “Why was Zoe inserted into the safety zone? Did the Legion not see her as a threat?”

  A350 ca
sts a disapproving look. “The girl was so young. She had almost her whole life ahead of her. Although she knew nothing about the rules of the Legion, we wanted to show her the benefit of living in the safety zone. She should feel how it is to be able to sleep without fear and live a regular life. We thought that she might someday convince the other outcasts of the Legion to join us.”

  “But she never considered living in the safety zone an advantage,” I finish A350’s report, whereupon she nods.

  “And what about the first D577?”

  A350 shrugs. “There was never a number 577 of the fifth generation.”

  Incredulous, I tear my eyes. “But we were at the performance tests; there were ninety-nine of us...”

  “You believed there were ninety-nine because you were told there were ninety-nine, but have you ever counted?”

  “Of course not, why should I? There was never a reason to doubt.”

  “Why is the fifth generation only ninety-nine people instead of a hundred? Was one of the women infertile?”

  A350 shakes her head again. “The fifth generation is exactly a hundred people just like every generation before it. There was one child that was not born in the safety zone, but left the Legion still in his mother’s womb. She was one who participated in the experiment.”

  Maggie and Finn. Or should I say Z318 and D577?

  I have already tried to ask A350 to tell me who Z318 really is, but she avoided the answer earlier. If I ask now, she might end this round of question and answers. There are other ways of finding out if Z318 is Zoe’s mother.

  “Each generation consists of fifty women. This means each woman brings two children into the world?”

  “Yes, but not simultaneously. Each woman participates in the pairing twice. It is the second time for the fourth generation and the first for the fifth generation.”

  I know there are so-called mating fights in the arena for mating. Only the men participate. It serves the same purpose as the performance tests. The best pairings are to be found. However, I know very little about the pairing itself. The thought of A566 and his attempted rape comes to mind. However Florence described sex as something beautiful. However sex is a mode of reproduction that went down with the old Earth. In the Legion, there is no sex, so procreation works a little differently.

  “What exactly happens during mating?”

  “The pairing begins with the mating battles. Here each generation, the men compete against each other in order to establish their ranking. For women, there is also precedence, but this is determined without fighting. The doctors examine the women’s bodies, but also their classification plays a major role. Therefore, you will have a very high ranking, if not in the first place. But the ranking of women naturally remains a secret at all times. After the fighting, the women are paired with the same rank men. However, there is no physical contact. The man’s semen is collected by a doctor and used on the woman. We call this artificial insemination. During pregnancy, the women are exempt from their duties so as to ensure the protection of their unborn child. After nine months, all children are promptly brought into the world and go into the neonatal unit.”

  “Do the women even get to see their children?”

  A350 immediately shakes her head vigorously. “No! If the women do not know which one is theirs, they will strive to protect each one as though it were hers. They can never know which one is theirs.”

  Certainly the records that A350 spoke of lists who is whose child. Does she know who her children are? Could I be her daughter? I would not mind the idea. I like A350 a lot. But if she were my mother, I would see her through different eyes.

  “What if a woman does not wish to have a child?”

  “She has no choice. The continued existence of the Legion is crucial.”

  “But maybe another woman would love to have more than two children; therefore the stock would still be even.”

  “Any woman can only get one child per mating, and they can only participate in two pairings, otherwise they would be too old.”

  “But what if there was no pairings and women could be fertilized at any time they wanted?”

  “The decision does not lie with the residents of the safety zone,” A350 replies indignantly.

  “They should,” I reply hard. “Everyone should have the right to decide what they do with their body.”

  “But the Legion is in control. If they let people decide freely, they could no longer control the population.”

  “Maybe the Legion should simply trust that the people are keen to ensure their survival, even without the control of the Legion.”

  A350 narrows her eyes and looks disdainfully at me.”

  “I suppose you are not one to simply follow the rules, but constantly debate against them, no matter what they are.”

  The way she says it, I realize she expects nothing less from me now that she knows me really well. “It’s not just about me, it’s about all women. We should be able to decide freely.”

  “This decision is not in my hand, but I will convene a conference in which you can try to persuade the others.”

  In the afternoon, just before the evening’s food distribution, I walk through the winding corridors of the sickbay. The corridors are all alike. Zoe’s cell was shortly past the entrance to the atrium, but the cell I would like to visit today is located at the back of the sickbay. It feels like a maze. I feel the suspicious glances of doctors and guards on me when I hurry past them. My head is raised and I walk with a single-minded mission, giving the air of knowing where I am going and what I am doing. My heart beats faster with each intersection that I pass.

  It is only when I pass the third intersection that I turn to the right. More doctors curiously glance in my direction. All of the corridors are the same: sterile, white, with glaring ceiling lights, my shoes squeak on the gray floor. I turn left. This corridor seems rarely used. The light panels flicker gently. Black skid marks line to floor which might have come from a hospital bed or wheelchair. No one has bothered to clean it off the floor. The woman I want to visit never gets any visitors. She is neither questioned nor treated. She simply waits for the day her life ends.

  I opt for the right corridor and carefully put one foot in front of the other. I have the feeling that I am doing something forbidden, although as a Legion commander I am allowed to speak to each and every inhabitant of the safety zone, even the hidden ones.

  Around the next corner, only every third ceiling light is lit. Obviously the Legion saves our precious solar energy at this point. But at the end of the corridor is a door, or rather, a kind of lock, secured by a sensor. There are no guards in front of it, but it does not make me as relieved as I ought to have expected, but I feel worry rising within me. Maybe this woman is more dangerous than I think. Maybe she lost her mind and is no longer sane. The Legion surely would not keep her locked up like this for any other reason.

  Nevertheless, I place my thumb on the scanner next to the door. It takes a few seconds, but then the green light appears and the computer voice announces, “Access granted.”

  Directly behind the two steel doors is another door made of gray metal. At this point there is no scanner, only a keypad. Apparently this door can only be opened with a code. I do not know it.

  I attempt to type 318, the name of the resident, but a red light comes on and the computer announces, “Access denied.”

  Frustrated I look around and see a sort of window in the door covered by a flap. It is a window into the locked room. Curious, I push the flap aside and shrink back in shock when I see a pair of light blue eyes staring back from the other side of the glass. I stagger a few steps backward and lay my hand on my chest. My heart is beating frantically. The strange eyes are affixed on me like an eagle circling above a field of mice. These eyes are not foreign to me. They are the cold blue, almost gray that nearly always reminds me of snow, although I only know snow from recordings in the atrium. They’re the same color as Finn’s eyes before they became the stan
dardized light blue of the Legion.

  Slowly, my heartbeat calms down and I steadily walk in the direction of the door. The pair of eyes flinches and I can now see the entire face of the woman. Wrinkles are around her eyes and thin mouth. She has hair. Her face is smeared with red, but I fear that it is blood, not paint. Granted, the woman does not seem reassuring, but I do not know how I would look if I was trapped with no human contact for months. She probably does not know whether it is day or night or even how long she has been in this solitary cell.

  “Hi, I’m Cleo,” I introduce myself gently. She seems to reflect on my words, if she understood them at all. But then she shakes her head, as if I had asked her a question.

  “What is your name?” I ask. If it really is the woman I think it is, this is important. But she shakes her head again; maybe she cannot hear me through the thick door.

  I point to myself and place my finger on the cold glass and write my name in the fog: CLEO.

  Again, the woman shakes her head blankly.

  Maybe she would understand me if I used my Legion name. So next I write A518.

  She seems to understand that one better, but her response is not the one I had hoped for, because she spits in disgust on the floor at her feet and throws me a hateful look. As crazy as it may be, she still seems to know that the Legion commanders are responsible for ensuring she is stuck in this cell.

  “Who are you?” I ask, although the term Z318 is on her door, I want to hear it from herself.

  A strange grin appears on her face and she steps aside. I can no longer see her, but I can now see the wall behind her. The whole area is covered in red writing. Z318 over and over again. They range from being very small to being quite large. The whole wall is full of them.

  Suddenly she slaps her hand against the glass so I shrink back again. Her fingertips are bloody and the glass on her side becomes smeared with it. It is her blood.

  Slowly I get really scared of the strange woman and wonder if it was not wrong to come here. But I have not asked what I came to ask. Although I would prefer to leave immediately, but I force myself to stay.