Souldescance: A Science Fiction Story

Dewey was twelve when he finally learned what powered the Ark.

Late one wakecycle, he came home from creche and found his parents waiting for him in the kitchen of their pod.

His father delivered the terrible news without inflection. “Dewey, your grandfather’s been chosen.”

Dewey’s fingernails dug into his palms, nearly drawing blood as he fought back the traitorous tears swarming behind his eyes.

“No. They can’t!” he shouted, the words launching from his throat as if powered by ion thrusters. “He’s not ready.”

Both his parents rushed to explain, talking over each other. Every reason they gave seemed thin and pointless.

“It’s not fair!” Dewey insisted.

“It just is,” Mum responded quietly. She intertwined her fingers in her lap and stared at them for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his. “I’m so sorry, Dewey. It’s his time.”

“What does Arklore say?” Dad asked. As usual, when Dewey didn’t answer, his father sighed and quoted scripture at him. “‘Obey the choice which serves the greater good.’”

As if that was reassuring.

“How is this good for anyone?” Dewey asked. “People love Grandpa! He helps everyone on Kappa Block. What will they do now? I can’t believe it. He was just here this morning. He…”

The boy’s words trailed off and his heart sank when he realized the reason why his mother looked so guilty. He’d been set up.

“When did you find out?” he demanded.

Silence.

“When?”

His mother swallowed. “Just a few days ago.”

“A few days?” Dewey swayed in his seat. He struggled to maintain his balance as his memory of breakfast rushed back, now invested with new meaning.

* * *

Grandpa had been in their pod drinking coffee when Dewey woke. Usually, Mum made his lunch, but this morning she left to go to the market while Grandpa stayed behind to help him get ready instead.

Dewey hadn’t given it a second thought. He’d been glad. He’d relished having Grandpa all to himself.

Grandpa had steered the conversation toward Roletraining, asking Dewey what track he would choose when he was eligible to apply.

It was a common refrain. Choosing a Role was a person’s first adult choice on the Ark, and Grandpa counseled many children as they wrestled with that decision. Dewey had known that as long as he could remember. He also knew that he didn’t have to make a decision yet. So, he did what every kid in creche did when asked the same question. He shrugged and said he was still deciding.

But this time, Grandpa wouldn’t let it go. “You’re twelve years old now. It’s time to start thinking about what you want to do with your life. Sanitation engineer?” the old man suggested. “Like me?”

Dewey wrinkled his nose. “It smells down there.”

“You’re good at school. How about becoming a teacher?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “That sounds boring”

Grandpa frowned. “Every Role is vital, Dewey.”

The silence dragged out. Grandpa wasn’t afraid of silence.

“What about farming?” Dewey finally suggested. He didn’t love farming, but he didn’t hate it either. He enjoyed the feel of fuzzy leaves between his fingertips, the way the web of tubes carried water to hundreds of hydroponics tanks at the center of the Ark.

Grandpa nodded sagely, causing a warm feeling to bloom in Dewey’s chest.

“You always did love the Greenhouse. I know the Director of Food Production. I’ll speak to him for you.”

Dewey hesitated. Grandpa put his hands up to forestall any objections.

“It’s your decision. We all have a part to play on the Great Journey. All I’m suggesting is that you make sure whatever you pick is right for you. Not for anyone else. Not me, not your parents, only you. Understand?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” Dewey had said, more to appease him than anything else.

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