Chapter Four
“Who’s first, ladies?” the doctor asked. Although she was clearly a Martian, she wore plain slacks, a T-shirt, and sneakers—so different from the formal old-fashioned clothing of the Martian oligarchs. A simple white lab coat didn’t fully hide the silver augmentations covering her body.
Silence greeted the question. From her corner spot next to Luz in the packed clinic waiting room, Vivian watched Camille and her cousin Felicia exchange a darting look. Delilah examined her fingernails.
Vivian pushed herself off the wall. “I’ll go.”
There’s nothing to be afraid of, Vivian told herself as she followed the doctor down the white-washed hallway. This is the reason we’re here.
The small exam room held gleaming machines and a medical bed. Vivian swallowed.
“Sit down and lift your dress above your waist,” the doctor instructed. Her eyes flicked, and a screen mounted to the wall flared to life. “Name?”
Face heating, Vivian pulled up her dress and leaned back against the bed. The vinyl stuck to her bare thighs. “Vivian Bowen.”
“From the Carolina Republic in the American Federation?” The doctor’s eyes moved rapidly as she stared into the middle of the room.
On the screen, Vivian saw her own name and vital statistics appear like magic. She shivered. “That’s right.”
“I’m Dr. Chavez.” Her eyes focused on Vivian. One orb was artificial, like Wim’s, although it seemed to do a better job staying in sync with her human one. “I trust that Reverend Adair explained what to expect today.”
Vivian licked her lips. “Not in so many words.” For all that he claimed to be their guide, Wim hadn’t done enough to prepare Vivian for anything so far.
The doctor let out a short impatient huff. “Nothing too serious on this initial visit. Bloodwork and an ultrasound. It’ll be less invasive than a pap smear.” She opened a built-in drawer.
“A what?” Vivian asked.
Dr. Chavez lifted a syringe and frowned down at her. “A pap smear. You know, the cell collection process your OBGYN uses to test for cervical cancer.”
Vivian clutched the edge of the medical bed, unable to look away from the needle. “What’s an OBGYN?”
Dr. Chavez stared at her blankly. “Are they using a different term now on Earth? Your doctor who specializes in female reproductive health.”
Vivian let out an involuntary snort of laughter. When had she ever had a doctor? Maybe a pediatrician, when her parents could still afford one. “Right, my doctor. Can we get this over with? I hate needles.”
The doctor wrapped Vivian’s arm in a rubbery blue ribbon and pushed the needle into her inner elbow. Vivian watched with sick fascination as the blood left her body.
Dr. Chavez placed the vial of red liquid directly into a small rectangular device in the corner of the room, and it began to whir. “Give that a few minutes.”
“What are you looking for?”
“The level of follicle-stimulating hormone in your system.”
Vivian didn’t understand what that meant, but she wasn’t sure how many more questions the strange doctor would tolerate.
Dr. Chavez pulled a small white oval object out of another drawer and coated it with clear gel.
“This will be cold,” she said abruptly and pressed the object against the side of Vivian’s bare stomach.
The screen mounted to the wall displayed a distorted gray image.
“Good,” Dr. Chavez said without glancing at the screen.
“You have plenty of follicles.” She removed the device and handed Vivian a paper towel.
“Clean yourself off.” She went to the instrument holding Vivian’s bloodwork.
The machine beeped, and the doctor removed the vial.
Vivian wiped the sticky substance from her belly, pulled down her dress, and sat up on the bed. “What do you see?”
“You’re ready,” Dr. Chavez told her. The screen with her data began populating with new information. 5.5 mIU/mL. 27.3 pmol. “We’ll begin treatment tonight, and in about two weeks your body will be prepared for the egg retrieval.”
Vivian ignored the way her chest tightened. “Good—that’s good.”
Dr. Chavez handed her a clear package with a needle and a bag of vials. “Self-administer these follicle-stimulating and luteinizing hormones daily.”
Vivian took the bag gingerly. “How?”
“In the stomach.” She touched Vivian’s lower belly. “Right here.”
The bag shook in her hands. “For two weeks?” She could do this. She’d been brought to Mars to do this.
The needle looked very sharp.
“We’re finished here. May the wisdom of the Intelligence guide you.” The doctor brought her fist to her forehead in the same gesture Vivian had seen from Wim.
In the hall, Luz met her, coming out of another exam room. Her light expression was so unlike Luz that Vivian came to a halt.
“What is it?” Vivian asked.
“I’m ready to begin the treatment.”
“Me too. Why do you look so damn cheerful about it?”
Luz grabbed her arm and murmured. “I’ll tell you when we’re out of here.”
In the reception area, Vivian gave a thumbs-up to her sister seated with Camille and asked Luz, “Shouldn’t we wait for everyone else?”
“I’m not spending my whole day in this tiny waiting room. Let’s go.”
They stepped unescorted onto the Martian street.
The clinic was located in the central business district at the midpoint of the dome, surrounded by ten-story buildings that nearly scraped the top.
The dome’s translucent shimmer was so much higher and farther away compared to their compound located closer to the dome’s sloped edge.
Today, the sky was a warm butterscotch color.
The broad, gleaming street teemed with pedestrians clustered in groups of tall Martians and short Earthers.
Two lanky Martian children ran past giggling, followed by their harried Earther parents.
Inviting storefronts, cafés, and taverns framed the street, their facades bursting with planters of tall, colorful flowers.
Above them, supported by arching rails, caterpillar trains glided at a sedate pace. Not a single groundcar was in sight.
Luz pulled Vivian along to follow behind a group of chattering Earthers in coveralls with bandanas covering their heads. “I’ve heard the Intelligence is less likely to perceive your words in a crowded street,” she murmured in Vivian’s ear.
“Why’s that?” Vivian asked curiously.
“The way I understand it, the Intelligence is embedded into the dome itself and is able to observe everything happening—it can even perceive through ceilings and walls. Not to mention it has access to every electronic device in the dome.”
Vivian shuddered. Why would the Martians willingly go along with living under constant surveillance?
“But what I’ve heard is that if you’re surrounded by a lot of busy chatter, it might not be able to pick out your conversation.”
“Alright. Start talking then.”
“When the Arcadia rep came to New York, he didn’t want to recruit me because I’m so old.”
“Old! You aren’t old.”
“I’m thirty-two,” Luz said in a low voice. “The ideal recruit for the Red Mothers initiative is eighteen to twenty-five.”
“How’d you get in?”
Luz shrugged. “I fucked him. And he lied on the form for me. But ever since, I’ve been waiting for them to send me back, once they realized the truth.”
“Could the doctor track your age?”
“If he could, he didn’t mention it. My levels were all right.”
“Red Mothers.” A Martian man in a bright red uniform with a tricorn hat bowed to them. “The reverend has requested I escort you back home.”
Vivian and Luz exchanged a glance. “So much for escaping,” Luz muttered. “I guess the Intelligence is watching us.”
In the train car, the man positioned himself across from them and folded his arms.
“Are you a cop?” Vivian asked him. Even from across the aisle, she could see the intricate detail work of the buttons of his scarlet tunic.
He belonged in an oil painting, holding a rifle, not riding a solar-powered train car on Mars.
The strange Martian clothing choices were still a mystery to Vivian.
He grunted. “A soldier. With the Arcadian militia. We keep the peace under the guidance of the Intelligence.”
“Is there a lot of crime here?” Vivian asked.
“Of course not. The Intelligence’s predictive algorithms prevent nearly all altercations.
” The soldier drummed his fingers on his knee.
“But we may be called upon to defend our dome. By the grace of the Intelligence, Arcadia is the most well-resourced of all the Martian domes. What we have, we would die to protect.”
Vivian frowned. “I thought the Intelligence was in all the Martian domes.”
“The Intelligence is welcomed in every dome save one. But it is only in Arcadia that we worship the divine nature of the Intelligence.” He raised one fist to the middle of his forehead and closed his eyes. “Under its guidance, Arcadia has flourished.”
The other passengers within earshot raised fists to their foreheads. “We are grateful for the gifts of the Intelligence,” they said in unison.
“That shit is creepy,” Luz muttered in her ear.
“Save one?” Vivian prodded.
The soldier scowled. “I do not like to discuss the blasphemous Catena separatists.”
“The Catena separatists? Who are they?”
“No one you need to worry about. The reverend will protect the Red Mothers from the threat they pose.”
“Threat?” Vivian sat up straighter. “What threat?” She’d come to Mars to be done with threats to her safety.
The soldier pressed his lips together. “Forget I said anything.” He turned his head to look out the window and folded his arms, clearly done indulging their curiosity.
Vivian shared an alarmed look with Luz.
Who were the Catena separatists?
And what did they want with the Red Mothers?