Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Anna
Anna turned to the toaster oven. Inside were two perfect loaves of bread, made from the ingredients Atlas had brought the first night. The oven worked off solar power—there was still no electricity in the shed—but it was more than powerful enough.
It was early morning. After seven more days of heavy construction that surrounded the farmyard from sunup to sundown, the area was finally quiet. A bathroom with running water in a separate little room was installed yesterday, once the septic system had been placed.
And every night, Atlas had held her in his arms, putting her to sleep with excessive terraforming descriptions and so many soft touches.
Her shoulders relaxed after she cleaned the counter. Everything in her was tired. Bone tired. As of this week, she was two weeks away from her due date. A date that could not come soon enough, but was also too close. But only two weeks away? She was at the very end.
Her belly brushed against one of Atlas’s plants. One of his many plants. Every plant that came in made him staying feel more permanent. She tugged on one leaf, cleaning around the base. “I’m happy you’re here.”
Speaking of Atlas. She waddled outside to see Atlas sitting in the front yard on a bench in sunlight, set back from the construction debris that littered the front area.
Zero had been hauling scraps away every trip, but the tools the model-Ms used stayed behind, stored in crates all in a line.
Next to him was freshly turned dirt. A row of roses had been planted there only a day before.
On Atlas’s lap was a length of cording that he mechanically twisted in his fingers. The intricate strands needed to be braided together to repair one of the halters for the cows. “How long for the bread to bake?” he asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
“I'll set a timer,” Atlas said. “I’ll get it when it’s ready.” He reached out to her, pulling her down next to him. “Come here.”
“Hold on.” Anna lowered herself carefully. “Ugh. I’m a balloon.” She awkwardly leaned back on him. Between her aching back and huge front, she was more than ready to be done with pregnancy. Everything felt swollen, all the way to her ankles.
“A beautiful balloon.”
“No.” She snorted. “Save your flirting for after.”
He nuzzled under her ear. “A beautiful ball. A beautiful sphere. A beautiful planet . . .”
“Okay. Okay!” She laughed. “Don’t! Even laughing hurts. Ugh!”
Atlas’s fingers gently ran down her sides. They hadn’t gone much further other than snuggling and deep kisses, but that was enough. The strands of her hair twisted in his fingers like he was doing to the cording a minute earlier.
She shuffled her shoes on the ground. The rapid construction made it feel like everything around her was moving extremely fast. “Is there anything else around the house I can do? Can we plant those seeds?”
“I’d rather you sit.”
Anna sighed. “Atlas. I thought you said the baby can come at any time now?”
Atlas patted her side. “Baby girl can come at any time, but every day is a gift for her. I’ll do a stress test tonight, measure the heartbeats again.” He side-eyed her. “Maybe even the cervix if you’re lucky.”
She flushed. They hadn’t progressed to that point yet.
He’d finally taken off that sweater of his last night, saying that her body heat kept him sufficiently warm.
A different shade of blue sweater was back on him this morning.
The sweater usually hid his muscular frame, so having that gone had made sleep even harder last night while she rested in his arms.
Atlas’s voice pitched low. “Are you thinking about it?”
“Shhh . . .” She flushed, squirming into him. It was also hard to be intimate when . . . She frowned. “Atlas. The chip is only for anger right?”
“Yes, Anna. Why? Do you want to be mad at me for something?” He stiffened. “The cervix thing was a joke, like you sometimes make.”
“No.” Her cheeks flushed. “Not that. Just wondering if all of this is being tracked.” She pointed to the back of her neck. “Ah. All that I’m feeling other than anger.”
“Oh, those feelings.” He relaxed, pulling her closer. “Some, yes. Anger is the one it’s trained to catch. But regardless, only Sterling is receiving the data for all the readouts.”
“You haven’t heard anything from Stella or the others?”
“Not a word.”
“I guess I should try to ignore it.” She said. “Probably for the best; everything feels so uncomfortable.”
Atlas’s eyes softened. “After she’s born, everything will be better.” Then he reached out to touch her face. “In the meantime, ignore the chip the best you can. Don’t let them stop you from living.”
“Alright.” She snuggled in. “I know you want more though.”
He rubbed both hands down her arms, then said low, “I can tell you do too.”
Anna didn’t say anything, but the flush on her face spread.
“Yes, Anna. I do.” Atlas kissed her forehead. “But I don’t need that part to feel satisfied. I can wait until after. Can you?”
“. . . Yes.”
He pressed his temple against hers. “If it helps, you can pretend you have a headache. Like they do in those television feeds.”
“Oh really?” Anna snorted. “I thought you didn’t understand Earth women.”
“Some things are universal.”
“You’re so cheeky now.” She pushed off his chest to stand. “Walk with me? Can you tell me more about the plants we can put in the garden?”
“Sure.” He rolled up the cording he was working on until it was a thin, organized coil. “Let me grab my bag.”
Behind the shed, an area was sectioned off for a garden.
Doing much there was difficult though, with all the construction Zero had been doing.
Now that it was quiet, she felt less self-conscious about trying to garden, to put her personal stamp on the yard.
Even the drones lately—well, at least with Atlas nearby—didn’t hover over their home.
The dirt patch was long and already tilled. And Anna had dreams of at least getting the seeds in the soil before the baby came.
“Here.” In the bag Atlas carried were smaller satchels. “I brought some of my favorite seeds. They are all vegetables.”
She fingered the little packets, labeled with an even hand. “Do you farm all of these here?”
“No. But I’ve grown and sampled them for novelty.”
“Why didn't you get a patch of ground outside yourself at some point?”
Atlas clenched the seed bags in his hand. “I guess it didn’t occur to me to do that. I do take rotations in the farming quarters.”
“But you still collected them. And you grew indoors?”
“Yes.” He snaked an arm around her waist. “I am excited to have a garden now.”
“Mmm.” She lay back in his arms.
He nuzzled in. “It is nice to put down roots. It’s like my cherry tree. But I could take that with me when I went back and forth to the Earth.”
The cherry tree was just visible, part of it at least, inside their home with the door open. Anna rubbed the back of her neck. “I like seeing that tree. It’s your favorite tree, huh?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers stopped on her neck, right over the neural patch. “Are you going to have to go again? To Earth?”
“No.” Then he leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. “I don’t want to leave you.” He laid his hand on her belly. “Or her.”
“. . . Oh.”
Atlas moved on, sorting through the seed packets. He held up one labeled “carrot.” “This one is not too foreign.”
“Carrots!” She said. “I remember those. Do you have any potatoes?”
A bigger bag with potato seeds was pulled out. “Yes. And tomatoes. Melons . . .”
A soft chime sounded, and Atlas stood up. “The timer went off for the bread; I’ll be right back.”
“Alright.”
Anna bit her lip, examining the yard after he left.
The plot of land was empty. All the rocks and debris had already been cleared away by Atlas, leaving perfectly spaced rows.
Worms were in the ground, and insects, and if Anna didn’t think too hard, everything was similar to her garden she kept behind her bakery.
The only difference was that the swirling dust here didn’t settle on the soil; instead, everything stayed a rich, dark, Martian red.
She sorted through the seed packets, using her belly to help hold up the bag, before deciding what to plant. “Carrots first.”
She let the seed packet fall on the ground as she kneeled. The dirt was warm on her legs as she hunched over the open row. “Okay. Now. Where’s my trowel?” It was with her a second ago? Irritated, she searched for it. Where was it?
The irritation only lasted a second before a rushing sensation of cool water flowed over her, stealing the thought away.
Anna sat, blinking, on the ground for a few seconds after it passed. What was I doing? Her gaze fell on the carrot seed packet. Oh. This needs to be planted. She sat still in the dirt. “Where’s my trowel?”
The little shovel was sitting across the garden path. There it is! Why the heck is it all the way over there? A touch of irritation flared, and then the cool water feeling came again, followed by a small snap of pain.
She, again, froze. What was I doing?
“Anna?” Atlas returned with a slice of bread in his hand and a worried frown. “You keep getting up and down.”
It’s the chip, isn’t it? She bit her lip and forced a smile. “I’m just trying to plant. I need . . . that little shovel.” She pointed across the garden, resisting the urge to touch the back of her neck again.
“The trowel?” He retrieved it for her from the garden’s side. “Here.”
She took it from him, managing a small smile. “Thanks.”
He sat by her side and helped plant the seeds, discussing the different varieties and variations.
Anna nodded along, but her mind was elsewhere.
“Are you okay?” Atlas wrapped his hand around hers. “You are pale.”
She shook herself. I can’t get frustrated at all. That’s what I signed up for, right? Nothing had hurt her. And everything else was wonderful. Atlas staying, the house coming together, feeling safe. She didn’t want to ruin that feeling by having him question again if the chip was a mistake.
It was fine.
She was fine.
Atlas looked so worried that she made her smile even bigger. “Yeah. Sorry. What seeds did you say were good here again?”