How to Grow Old

Betani wakes, her hair mainly intact, except for stray baby hairs that freed themselves from the gentle friction of her silk pillow. Feeling for imperfections: Carefully smoothing the braid with her hands, she checks for any obvious flaws. She makes her bed. She dresses herself in a simple dress and cloak, knowing later she'll be changing into traditional Smaranjan attire, if available. For one last time, she steps out onto her balcony, which rests behind two doors. She places on her oxygen mask. The clouds usually block visibility, though this morning the entire city is observable. Large white domes and cylindrical towers, some clear with botanicals, intricate half moon and triangular windows with tinted blue and gray glass, the support pillars that appear like black holes in the ground, and tiny paved paths that trail around the city in unfinished spiral patterns. Beyond the city, nothing was visible. She leans over the ledge with her arms resting, closing her eyes for a moment—searching for peace. Guidance. Protection. She wonders why the Archives are so important to her — is it for the intentions of Souxians or the selfish desire for recognition? What is it she needed to gain from securing the truth? Or did she, like Aliyah, possess an uncertain passion soon to be realized? She feels a powerful pull that calls her to the tribal man and the tampered memory. For a moment, Betani removes her oxygen, embracing the harsh air---it's a wonder Nantano Xian couldn't come up with something better than these masks she thinks as she coughs and returns inside behind the first sealed door, and then the second.

She has packed everything she needs inside her canvas sack. It's heavier than it seemed the night before as she slips the straps through each arm. She ties a strap in the front to balance herself and maintain posture as it sits on her back—might as well get used to it. She considers glancing around the room to ensure she has forgotten nothing. Everything appears to be in order, her dwelling quite plain and unpersonalized. The sight of it pleases her because it will please Nantano Xian. She notices this feeling, a recurring one that she tries to avoid facing.

Nantano waits in the commons for Betani. An uninhabited Sel prepares food for the two. As Betani enters, Nantano forces a smile.

"I appreciate you joining me."

"Apologies, Nantano—I only needed a moment or two — "

"—It's alright Betani." Nantano nods, "It's not as if Natasha and I have been waiting long." Natasha is a retired Sel.

Betani bows, embracing his habitual sarcasm, finding a seat at the long table close to where he sits. The commons stretched down like a curving hall with windows to one side. Natasha left plates and silverware. She returns with bowls of fresh fruits, plates of breakfast cakes, and assorted toppings. Nantano dismisses Natasha with a flick of his hand and continues serving out the food to Betani and himself.

"Natasha won't be joining us?" Betani asks, used to her company.

"I'd like to discuss more private matters without unnecessary ears."

Betani tilts her head, curious, "I suppose it is an occasion—"

Nantano sighed, muttering, "A rumor spread, causing city unrest—"

"A rumor?"

"As you know, inoculation will be mandatory—and the day soon arrives. Unfortunately, a minor side effect of the cure we cannot resolve has become known throughout the city—and beyond."

"I know — "

"You do?"

"The order informed me. I was unaware its reach extended beyond me.

People believe a Sel defector remains within the order's walls.

Betani tries to act surprised — knowing something that Nantano doesn't.

"A Sel?"

"Yes—the likelihood is strong given their proximity to the order."

"But that is not Sel nature."

"They are still — "

"Human.." Betani finishes, staring at assorted fruits, her favorites among them — though now they look threatening as if they might not taste as they always have; she fears they might betray her, unripe. Looking at Nantano, she wonders about his nature or if he could be reticent. Maybe he already is. Though, likely not. Where did this leave her? She ponders more? She shakes her head.

"What is it, Betani?" Nantano asks.

"Nothing, Nantano Xian—"

"Relieve yourself about what burdens you."

"What about Souxians—do they ever defect?"

Nantano sighs, finishing his generous bite of pineapple, and says, "There has only ever been one —"

"Uno Xian?"

"No—not him. Uno Xian has not defected. The rest of us from him. The Souxian order has replicated from self—meaning we've all been born from one. Each time the order has split, the new entity created is always carrying its own unique subset of motives."

"Then who?"

"We originally split eighty-three times. We intended on expanding, and reproducing more until the risk became far greater than the reward. As each new Souxian splits from the original self, we become more and more capable of interacting with world around us—our power properly dispersed in space and time so that we do not absorb and crush all matter in our path." Smoothing his slicked back hair with the palm of his hand he smacks his thin lips, "The risk is that one may no longer have control over the separateness we've gained. Matters complicated once we discovered other intelligent life—humans. There had been disagreements on our relationship with humans. Eighty-three, the youngest of our order — held grand passions within that struck and complicated practical advancement. "

"So what happened?"

"Eighty-three fell to Uno Xian's call."

Betani tried to imagine what that meant by imagining intense light sucking up a smaller light from inside a Sel body, swallowing each spark, until they remain tame and submissive inside. But wouldn't that give Uno more power?

"Uno Xian must be powerful." Betani fishes.

'Indeed. Uno Xian has substantial power. Therefore, we keep him imprisoned under constant observation."

Betani notices Nantano refrain from eating, all his attention pointing to her. He usually waits until she finishes everything on her plate before he invites his last bite.

"I wonder if there are others," Betani finally says.

"Others?"

"Similar to Eighty-three."

"The order shares a strong telepathic bond—covert plans and actions are seldom undetected. Though, there are ways to mask it. To hide."

Betani's cheeks turn hot as she feels a pang in her stomach—an anxious urge to get away.

"So it's not impossible then." She coughs.

"You really are my pupil—aren't you?" Nantano chuckles.

With a strained smile to conceal her chattering teeth, she mechanically tears a piece of bread. Swallowing the bread, she reflects on the oddity of feeling unsure about who or what to trust, resulting in a humbling silence. It's not as if she didn't want to trust Nantano, yet her curiosity about how events might play out without his interference grew strong—

If she mentioned the reticent to him, she wouldn't be able to prove it. A conversation whose meaning eluded her. If she keeps quiet for now, she might gain an opportunity to learn further knowledge of what it all means—and what it is about her. Though the risk is significant. If anyone discovers her involvement, it could mean exile.

Betani finally reaches for a chunk of fruit that appears the most colorful and ripe. When she bites into It the juices burst in her mouth and she savors them. A favorable outcome, she trusts herself.

Do you think I will struggle to gain the Smaranjans' trust?" Betani asks.

"It would surprise me more if you didn't. The Smaranjans' caution necessitates your submissive posture. I suggest you let them perceive their own dominance over you as genuine — show them you have human vulnerabilities. They will feel less threatened and little by little, they will allow you into their world." Nantano consumes that last piece of fruit on his plate, then adds, "Do not impress them with fanciful conversations about Hiroshirpa—or the life you have lived."

"They will not be curious?"

"If they are, it is only to gain information about the enemy. They are not as simple-minded as the order tries to convey."

How could they be? Betani reflects on their survival over the years. Making alliances with neighboring territories of enduring. The Near Edge comprises three bordering territories where exiled humans have spread out — each with their own leaders; they all collude to overtake Hiroshirpa before The Weaving takes them—and they all share disdain for the Souxian Order.

Betani pushes her plate aside.

"And now their numbers will grow, as many will refuse inoculation."

"So why enforce it?"

"The long-term benefits outweigh the temporary storm. Preventing the aging process will eliminate the need for human turnover—and they will stand to be more useful as advancements procure."

Betani tries to withhold her distaste for Nantano Xian's choice of words. "Can we postpone it until the side effects are—"

"People will eventually accept assisted reproduction."

"I see. So there is no other way?"

Nantano Xian shakes his head. Betani knew a better path existed, had he sought it. Still, she can't help but feel uncomfortable that the order is becoming so rigid in demands. Everything until this point has been voluntary—even Sel participation. Humans had a choice in Hiroshirpa. That's what made them stay other than the eminent doom of the planet. Though, Betani still wonders what would have happened if she had refused to become a Devine servant. She would have accepted another position, perhaps? Certainly not a Sel.

Betani goes over all her necessities in her head. Is everything packed and ready to go? What questions did she still have, and what advice did she need to remember?

"How about the Zu?" she at last recalls.

"Gather your things. I will escort you to the station, and before I see you off, I will make sure you're properly introduced."