Just Like Sleeping

It was during the summer solstice when Seaver and his two daughters, Finn and Adi went to the top of the rise to watch the eclipse. Garrett, a man that Seaver had come to know, even before the first "cycle," endured it from afar under the slouching branches of a catalpa tree. It was the rarest of events and the first of the New Age. They brought with them the instruments of the mirror and the almanac. On a spare page taped to the inside back cover, they recorded the eclipse' celestial life: type, day, date, time, totality, duration.

When the eclipse became full, it dimmed the heavens and covered everything in a warm light the color of rust. In varying degrees, it changed the face of the world, but it was no less spectacular. The darkened plinths of rocks, boulders and hills in the distance. The hardened metallic sheen of a galvanized trash can. The flinted color of a paved road stretched out, and the filament and frond of trees, leaves and plants reaching toward the earth. Everything had taken on a renewed semblance.

Without preambles, Finn asked, "When will we get to see another eclipse?" The question made Seaver shudder. Then he watched while Adi spun through the pages of the almanac. "Look father, she said, "I found the eclipse." In her childish innocence, what she thought was a printing of the eclipse, was instead, a pencil-drawing of a waxing gibbous moon. Seaver put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and gave her a warm smile. She just wanted to see if the universe was true to its nature, in the working of celestial magic.

After Finn and Adi had gone inside, Seaver and Garrett met on the patio and sat at a wooden table with four matching wooden chairs. A few hours before the eclipse, Garrett had delivered to the house, two six-feet tall glass cylinders with aerated metal lids and thick heavy bases. Now he had returned to remind Seaver to "stay on assignment" with the course of the "cycles." He cleared the phlegm from his throat, and without any pretenses he spoke. "Seaver, I know that you've never had the stomach for this, but the time for their renewal has come." His voice carried a grim residue and he smelled of camphor and cigar smoke. "Let's stop this," Seaver said. "At least give them more time," he pleaded. Garrett shook his head from side to side in slow heavy arcs, and answered, "No. You know the risks of not staying with the cycles. You will do things my way, or you won't see them again," he said. Seaver locked his hands together and added with a shout, "This is inhumane and obscene, recycling them like old paper!"

In that moment, Garrett handed Seaver a little black notebook and a slender green box with a lid. Seaver put the notebook on the table and opened the box. Inside was $20,000. He wedged a thumb between the two stacks, let them fall back together, and put the lid back on. "This gives me very little comfort," he said. "Listen," Garrett asserted, "this is not about your comforts. You_" Seaver interrupted and stood up in protest. "Who are you Garrett?" He asked. "In all the years I've known you, I still don't know who you are. Tell me. Scientist? Revolutionary? Visionary? New Age mystic, or murderer of children?" Garrett shifted his weight and gave an uneasy stare. "It's not murder, it's life. Maybe in time, you'll come to understand that." Seaver started again. "How long?" He asked."How many more times do they have to do this?" Garrett shot back. "As many times as I want them to." Seaver snapped. "You barbaric bastard. These are my daughters. They're made out of flesh and blood. They're not something you can just grow in a petri dish!"

At that moment, Garrett jumped from his chair with his arms flailing and demanded that Seaver lower his voice. He sat back down and went on with his objections. "This is not the age of your forefathers. Look around you. We didn't inherit a paradise, this is hell on earth. The world is not the same. Nothing is easy anymore, especially for old men like us." Seaver's eyes glazed over, and his face put on a distant look.

Garrett sat down and gave his instructions . "Seaver," he said, "you have $20,000, do whatever you want with it, but I want those girls ready. I want them clean and their heads shaved. You can feed them a light meal, but no soda, tea and no milk. Those things make it harder for the elixir to do its job. I want them ready. You have two hours." Then he pointed a finger at Seaver and warned him, "Don't let me have to tell you again."

Anger came before the anquish, but he gathered himself and settled into a calm manner. He carried out Garrett's instructions with great reluctance. He fed them a light snack of mixed nuts, fruit and orange juice. Before they bathed, he cut off their hair and shaved their heads until they were smooth as a cat's-eye marble. In the last quiet hour, Seaver sat and watched his daughters play, dance and do splits. Adi stood against one of the glass cylinders and measured her height. His thoughts drifted to the moment when time would take away his girls. He had already seen it happen before. This would be their fourth time. He had been inside the crucible. He had seen the sloughing of mind and matter. He had witnessed the drinking of the "elixir," and the climbing into the glass cylinders. He had witnessed their bodies dissolving into a sputtering foam, then into a viscous mass. For days his conscience would twist with the profane secret of their "renewal." The taking of blood, bone and marrow.

Despite the uneven moments, there were still memories that not even the longest of times could erase: the birthday trips to the carnival, the breach of the locusts one early spring, the earthquake vacation that shook the ground in Las Cruces and the bee sting behind Adi's ear that same summer. His daughters were the rainbow of his mind. In the cradle of his dreams, they were there. In the constant, all-consuming strain, they were there. They, were the anchor of his memories.

After Garrett had returned in the allotted time, he and Seaver had rejoined themselves at the wooden table on the patio. Seaver brought whiskey and two shot glasses. The first shot lulled them into a brief and unsteady solidarity. The second shot stoked the embers of a coversation that would drift in and out of argument. Finally, they gave in to the rare, abject power of civility among men. They poured one more shot, gave a gentleman's toast and went inside. They were all there. There in a moment of reckoning that would change their realities again. Seaver kissed his girls on the forehead and helped them inside the glass cylinders. He was about to tighten the lids when Finn gave a solemn wave. Before he could tighten the lid for Adi, she reached up, held it open with one hand and asked, "Father, when I close my eyes, how long will we be gone?" He leaned in close and answered with a whisper, "Not long my love."

"Don't worry, it's just like sleeping. Just...like sleeping."