The Body of Mr. Hainsworth

The car door swung open, slapping Lethe with the acrid stench of diesel and manure. Choking back the bile building in her throat, she lifted her head high and stepped out of the backseat, immediately sinking her heel into a half-inch of mud. Or at least she hoped it was mud.

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Her mouth contorted into a pursed frown as she purposefully but regrettably lowered her other foot into the mud. “Absolutely foul.”

The man rounding the backend of the car chuckled. Cody had dressed appropriately for the location: worn steel-toed boots, dungarees, and a thin knitted sweater unravelling at the collar. But Lethe believed in class. Those who lived in the outskirts needed to be reminded of their place, and a pair of dungarees wouldn’t cut it. Nor would her partner’s inexcusable beard, grey and brittle despite all the products afforded by their station.

Lethe adjusted her pencil skirt and headed for the door, her feet squelching in the mud with every unsightly step. The brisk wind whipped wisps of hair from her bun. She shuddered.

When she arrived, Cody tipped his invisible hat toward her and then lightly rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Hi-de-ho,” he called.

Lethe tried not to roll her eyes.

The home was little more than a hovel, just pieces of rotted wood and scrap metal bolted together, much like the rest of the outskirts. Malnourished pigs snorted in the back where the Barrows grew enough produce to feed the family. Heaven forbid they worked the greenhouses like the rest of the commoners. Why anyone would choose to farm the patchy, unwilling soil was beyond her.

Lethe could only attribute their sentiments to their lack of education. Bleeding hearts never understood progress.

The administrators didn’t have to wait long. Soon there came a muffled female voice followed by a harsh shushing. The door opened with a reluctant screech.

“Hello,” said a man. Even in the dark of his windowless home, Lethe could make out his tanned, weathered skin, the creases around his eyes and across his forehead, the grey peppering his stubble. Lethe knew by the file that he couldn’t have been more than thirty.

“Mr. Barrow,” began Cody. “We’re here to-”

“Your son has been chosen,” Lethe interrupted.

The man said nothing, only sighed. With the shake of his head, he left the door ajar as he disappeared into the adjoining room.

Lethe fished a bronze case from her jacket pocket and withdrew a cigarette, setting it with a similarly bronze lighter. A wet droplet hit her cheek. She glanced up, but the sky was its normal orange haze, perhaps with a few darker-than-average splotches.

Beside her, Cody bristled. “You could do with a bit of kindness.”

This time, Lethe did roll her eyes. “Could I?” She took a drag of her cigarette and sputtered. The administration’s supply had finally run dry. Whatever faux tobacco hybrid they’d used to replace it simply didn’t compare.

“They’re losing a son," said Cody.

“They’ll be compensated.”

“It’s still their son.”

“Believe me, they’ll have more. Their kind always does.” Lethe sucked down another puff of her cigarette, considering whether to report him. “There isn’t a problem here, is there?”

“No problem,” he replied a little too quickly. After a pause, he added, “All I’m saying is it doesn’t hurt to have a bit of heart.”

“Give it a day. I’m rather sure you’ll change your mind.”

The following silence broke with an ear-rending keen.

“They can’t take him! They can’t!” a woman screamed, the words barely more than gasping hiccups between her cries. “Please, tell them to pick someone else. Please!”

“You need to stay calm,” said her husband, his reply contradicted by his own racking sobs.

Lethe stamped out her cigarette. Unfortunate that such hysteria wasn’t so easily quashed. She looked at Cody, ready to berate him for whatever emotions were likely playing on his face, but he was simply leaning against the corrugated siding and staring into the sky.

“Gonna rain,” he said.

The door creaked. Lethe looked down to see a boy peering through the opening. He had almond skin and dusty black hair like his parents. According to the file, he had turned five last week.

Cody crouched, cracking a smile. “Levi, I take it?”

The boy nodded, his brown eyes wide.

“Ever been to the gates, Levi?” asked Cody.

The boy glanced in the direction of the gated division, past the stacks and the quarters, where the elite such as Lethe resided. Biting his lower lip, he shook his head.

As the two chattered away, Lethe felt for the cigarette case in her pocket. She tapped the lid, the taste of the previous smoke still sour on her tongue.

“What’s that you got in your hand?” she heard Cody ask.

Lethe turned to see the boy’s fist dart behind his back.

“Give it here,” she said.

“Is that necessary?” replied Cody.

She glowered at him.

Reluctantly, the boy opened his hand. Lethe gingerly plucked the object from his palm by its chain and held it before her. It was a simple bronze necklace, and on it dangled a locket in the shape of a heart, intricate flowers etched across the top.

“Twenty-first century by the look of it,” said Cody. “May I?”

Lethe scoffed, then wiped her hands on her skirt once she was rid of it.

He clicked the locket open. “This a sketch of your ma?”

“My papa drew it,” the boy answered. “He said it’s a heart because that’s where I should keep her.”

“She must be very special. What do you think, Lethe?” he coaxed.

“I think it’s trouble.”

Before Cody could reply, the commotion from inside grew louder as the boy’s mother tore into the room. She lunged for her son. Instinctively, the boy leapt out of the way, right into Lethe’s hold.

“No, please!” the woman choked, sinking to her knees.

Lethe gripped the boy’s shoulders, her manicured fingernails in stark contrast to his tattered dirt-brown shirt. She turned to leave.

“At least let me say goodbye.”

Lethe thought to ignore her, but Cody threw her a look she didn’t care to debate.

“Fine,” said Lethe. “You handle this.”

Waving him off, she returned to the car. Once inside, she scraped the mud from her heels as best she could, then slammed the door, shutting out the smell and haze and cries and all the rest of it. This had been far easier with her previous partner. If memory served, they’d even had fun. She could only hope they aged Cody down sooner than later, if he even qualified.

Far too soon, the opposite door opened. The boy scooted into the seat across from her, bringing all the stench and other wonders of the outskirts with him. Lethe audibly gagged.

“Excuse you,” chuckled Cody as he ducked inside.

Blessedly, the car began to move. Lethe sighed with relief, but then her eyes caught a glint of light in the boy’s fist and she sneered.

“You let him keep it,” said Lethe.

“It’s just a locket.”

“It’s a memory. Heavens, I knew you weren’t up to the task.”

“Now hold on.”

“The past is the past, and those living in it simply don’t get to move on. So decide. Are you part of the future?”

Cody’s cheeks quickly turned a shade of red. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Then show me.” The man looked so tortured that she almost felt bad for him. “For your own sake.”

He swallowed, his frown visible behind his scratchy beard. Slowly, he turned to the boy.

“May I see it?”

The boy shook his head.

Cody took a deep breath. His face hardened. “Give me the locket. Now.”

His eyes wet with tears, the boy shook his head again. “Please, mister.”

Cody paused, glancing at Lethe. “He won’t remember?”

“He won't exist. It’s a full neural remap. I believe his host is Governor Hainsworth’s father, so unless the man has a penchant for frail jewellery, the locket will be a remnant of the past. As it should be.”

He took another deep breath, then grabbed the boy’s hand. As the child whimpered, Cody peeled his fingers back and removed the necklace.

Still, he hesitated.

“Do it,” Lethe said.

Her partner looked at the heart-shaped locket, then at the boy, then at the locket once more. His fingers ran over the engraved petals. Then, his jaw tight, he lowered the window and tossed it out the side.