The Game of Life

Gravity

     “It’s important that we present the news with weight -- gravity -- even if there’s really nothing much to it.” Communications Kihter said, his fingers drumming the script on his desk. “For example, the divorce of Major Swanson and Doctor Bolfry: no one cares. They’ve both been phased out and moved to the second dorms, they were never one of the couples who received children, and there’s nothing at all wrong with two consenting adults getting a divorce.”

     Ciph nodded while Anna tried to stifle a yawn.

     “But!” He slammed his hand down and jarred the girls to attention, “That’s not news! The corruption of our moral fiber is news! The beginning of discontent in the aging ranks is news! We must read beyond the mundane facts to find the hidden nuggets of intrigue!”

     “Exaggerate the truth and make up the reasons.” Anna said.

     “Yes!” Kihter nodded. ‘No! Not at all! Exaggerate the truth, yes, make up the reasons, no.”

     The girls left the production offices some hours later, having been tested on film, read previous news stories, and learned to operate the few human-controlled elements of the studio. It was both dull and exciting.

     “So? When’s the big day? My idiot brother refuses to say a word.”

     The computer calculated a window when each pair of Seeds were to procreate -- usually a few days, when the girls were most receptive -- and Ciph and Max had been among the first to take delivery of the notice. It wasn’t technically confidential, but only the medical staff and the parents-to-be were told by the computer. Any further spreading of the information was at the Seeds’ discretion. Ciph got her call when they were in the observation deck cafe; her face was enough to start the rumors.

     “We, we agreed not to tell anyone. Max is private, you know.”

     “All too well.” Anna folded her arms over her chest. “So… I guess that means you haven’t done it yet.”

     “I… maybe...”

     Anna stopped walking, her mouth ajar. “I see.” She said.

     “Have you and Julian heard your date?” Ciph asked, the words almost tumbling from her mouth. Anna had been getting more and more agitated as the weeks came and went, and the numbers of couples making romantic plans and taken their final lectures on intimacy increased. For what it was worth, the lecture was embarrassing and awkward, and Ciph would have perhaps rather not known some of the ways this sort of thing could be done. And the doing of it was even more so.

     “No.” Anna said.

     “It’s a six month rotation, though, right? Maybe they’re saving you for next month’s batch.”

     Anna sighed and nodded. To avoid hospital overflow, they were splitting all of the first generation pregnancies into six sets, with the most important gene pools moving forward first. She thought that Julian would be right up top with Max, but perhaps the computer wanted to give their child special attention? They would certainly still be close enough to the same age to play together, either way. She was worrying for nothing.

     They turned the corner into a secondary maintenance hallway that ran under the lake outside of Ciph’s apartment, where pipes pumped oxygen to the living quarters and water to the pools and envirospheres. The lights were always a pale blue.

     Then a sound broke into the rhythm of their footsteps; a whistle so high that it only barely registered in their ears. The lights shifted from blue to red, and the emergency sirens squawked their disapproval. Instructions appeared on the datapads on their wrists.