Ravana's Shadow (25) (Patreon)

No citizen of the Institute could freely travel downstairs to Remedial and back at will. To become a patient was to submit to the cognitive filters, accept a 30% template. Given the advanced age of every citizen, it wasn't as though the time would go to waste. They needed every second of treatment they could get.

As Colonial Governor of the Mara colony, Kit was an exception. She descended the elevator to visit its patients at least once a week, providing some small semblance of the connection they really needed from a family. It was a poor substitute for the real thing. 

Normally the entrance was peaceful, broken only by the sound of running water and the voices of playing children. A smattering of recliners, couches, and other comfortable furniture gave waiting citizens time to think through their next few minutes and decide if they wanted to stay. 

Whether before the evacuation or after, Forerunner had removed all that furniture, clearing the space for citizens to cram inside. 

Fortunately for her, Kit didn’t have to come up with what to do with the Institute’s population all on her own. A persona that could facilitate design teams and fabricate rockets, manage their food supply, and repair damaged brains could certainly organize kids into teams and give them entertaining games to play.

There was still something surreal about seeing such tall colonists down here. Past the makeshift field kitchen and rows of sleeping bags in the lobby, Kit entered Remedial’s day room to find the usually sparse ground packed full of colonists.

The “day” room was really a room the size of a full dome, as it was located at the base of the same structures that formed the Institute over their heads. It had artificial sunlight that never set, fake trees and fake grass and a fake river. This was no recreation of a real world like the environment domes above their head—Remedial patients could not notice such details, nor did they care.

Instead, the space was divided into a number of pens, each for different purposes. Some had things to climb, others places to swim or run or do craft activities. An observer from Kit’s own time would not have thought it looked very strange compared to any preschool or daycare. But it was more accurately viewed as a retirement community.

Those pens were basically impassable to its typical population, but they would do nothing to contain older templates.

Forerunner had already done a great deal in the time it took Kit to get downstairs and change, removing the pens from many of the outdoor areas, creating what could’ve been a single unified park in the center of the day dome. 

Two groups of colonists gathered there—near the door were Kit’s population from the space above, some still carrying toy rockets, or wearing their jumpsuits modified with Neophyte green instead of Institute gray.

On the far side were the patients—far more numerous, but not quite half the size, nor did they have the same sense of personal space as the older templates. They cowered close to each other, hiding near the wall.

The frightened kids weren’t a monolith, of course. A handful had already made their way over to the large templates. Some were looking for friends, yet others—that was a game, wasn’t it? Running in like that, then retreating. Whenever one of the colonists got too rowdy, or risked hurting themselves, there was a drone to scoop them up and carry them away to the still-sealed parts of Remedial.

A half-dozen drones stood not-so-subtly blocking the access tunnels into Remedial’s other two domes. Just like animals in captivity, these young colonists needed somewhere to retreat if the pressure grew too intense.

Kit walked into the gap between both groups, with Maddie trailing along behind her. 

Without a word, Jay appeared from the crowd of nervous colonists, scampering to meet her. He already had a new tablet, or maybe that was the old one.

She hugged him close, tighter than she would’ve dared with anyone else. “I know you didn’t want to come down here,” she whispered into those big ears. She couldn’t stop others from overhearing, not with Jay not wearing an interface. But she could still try.

“Yeah,” he held on, tight enough that she couldn’t let go. “Helps that there are others. Looking down on it instead of straight. Seems so… silly. This is what makes the Institute immortal? Some blocks and swings and board books?”

Kit shrugged. Without any personal experience with the invisible death modern humans called decoherence, she couldn’t say whether any solution would work better than others. “Now you know how I felt joining the Institute,” she said. “All this stuff doesn’t look that different from being upstairs from my perspective. And Garrick’s too. Probably why he’s such a pain.”

He finally released her, though he caught her arm before she could get very far. “Please stay with me. I need… reminding. Reason to stay upstairs.”

“You’re my assistant,” Kit said. “Of course I want you with me!” There were so many others who needed attention now, not just one. But if Jay stayed close, she could keep an eye on him. She just had to keep reminding him why it was better to stay normal.

Jay released her, taking his tablet again. He saluted with his other hand, kinda. “I’m with you, Director. No matter what.”

At least someone is. Kit cleared her throat, stepping away from Jay, and towards the center of the room. Without Wren, she was the only one here known to patients and colonists alike. She had to make this work. “I’m sorry we didn’t give you all more warning,” she said. “But turns out we had an unexpected opportunity.”

She turned away from the surface colonists, dropping down to one knee. She might be new to Mara, but many of these colonists were familiar to her. She came downstairs every single week to spend time with them, after all. 

“We won’t be down here for very long. Forerunner just needs a day or so to get things patched upstairs, and you’ll have the day room back.”

Someone stepped out of the crowd—a little ferret, with dirt smeared over his face into a makeshift mask. Lucien waved at her with both hands, and Kit waved back.

“Kitty? Did you blow up Mara? The rocket was going up and up and then it went off.”

She smiled weakly, glancing back at her friend for help. There were better colonists to explain this kind of thing.

“The test was successful,” Maddie said. She was smaller now that she didn’t have the suit on anymore. She still spoke loudly and clearly. “The test vehicle didn’t complete every stage of our mission. But we got very close, and we’ll do even better next time.”

“Oh, okay,” Lucien took a single step back. “Be more careful next time, kay? It was so loud! The ground was shaking… it was so scary!” He wrapped his arms around his chest, then seemed to realize they were watching, and let go. “For everyone else. Not me. I was brave!”

“Course you were.” Kit patted his head once. “I’ll be more careful next time, promise.” If there is a next time after this.

What could Kit do to entertain a population spread across radically different levels of maturity?

She didn’t have to amuse anyone for long, just keep her population calm until the Institute upstairs was safe to re-enter. That was probably what made it possible at all—she didn’t need to rehabilitate anyone, didn’t need to teach them anything or help in any meaningful way. 

Forerunner did most of the hard part, giving her the groups and the activities and managing everyone with its drones. Kit did very little, mostly just “supervising” to make sure the Remedial patients weren’t overwhelmed.

That, and answered questions from the ordinary population. “Did we really blow it up?” 

“Can we not go to Ravana?” 

“What happened?” 

“Did you know it would do this?” 

Her population might not be the age they looked, but they sure could get just as annoying with their questions.

Unfortunately for her, Kit couldn’t answer many of their most pressing questions. Why had the rocket failed? What would they be doing differently with the next one? She had no idea and wouldn’t find out until repairs were complete and the population could be led upstairs. What about her promise that Wren would be there to help?

She did have an unexpected secret weapon: Maddie. 

The eccentric colonist had played a not-insignificant role pioneering the Remedial process, and knew the modern facilities as well as any of its modern patients. Since she’d been part of the first generation, Maddie knew every patient by name, even those Kit had barely met.

“I told Wren we should do something like this a long time ago,” Maddie said, from inside a growing fort of foam blocks. The patients didn’t have the dexterity to build it very high on their own--but with Maddie and the kids from upstairs, they were already transforming it into a castle. “I knew it would work! Too ashamed to be around us, no way! Everyone misses their friends. And if anyone’s scared, they can hide in one of the other rooms until it’s over.”

The fox leaned down front the ramparts, careful not to put her weight on the edge. Even with Velcro to hold it all together, it was all still foam, and couldn’t hold much weight. Yet as it grew, the block fort attracted more patients and colonists alike to join in, carrying in armfulls of blocks from elsewhere.

Even Kit felt the temptation--with those cylinder blocks, maybe they could get a drawbridge supported well enough to hold up the weight of a patient. “I’m glad everyone’s having fun,” Kit said. She took a few seconds of concentration, focusing on her implant and the matching bow Maddie wore. “The more the better. I think a lot of our colonists didn’t understand that exploring space means making mistakes. One test has less than perfect results, and they could be rushing down here. I’ve got ten colonists in intake so far. Help me stem the bleeding.”

Maddie nodded. There was no hesitation when she spoke, switching to the silence of the implant without apparent difficulty. “I know I’m not making my own case very well here, but bringing everyone down here probably wasn’t the best way to keep colonists out of remedial. Showing everyone how much fun they could have with their old friends, how much simpler everything is…”

Kit nodded. “Unfortunately it’s the only fully shielded part of the Institute. I would’ve sent everyone to the domes otherwise--but we didn’t know they wouldn’t get hit. Imagine how much worse this would be if we had a few hundred people who needed new bodies made. Anyone who saw that morgue would be a patient within the day.”

Maddie waved her off. “You should check on those kids near the door. I think that’s Chase over there. Probably looking for his family in first gen. Ravana mission needs him, don’t let him go.”

Kit nodded her thanks, then hurried across the room. There were plenty of fires to extinguish, not just Chase. Many of her colonists seemed to think they could just come downstairs for a while, and everything in the institute would be prosperous and safe when they grew up again. The further that idea spread, the worse off the whole colony would be.

“We can still do this,” she told them. “It’s okay if tests go wrong. We blew up an empty rocket so we wouldn’t blow up one with people inside. Our next mission will be a lot safer, you’ll see. But we need you to make it happen.”

Eventually Forerunner and Emma interrupted Kit’s desperate work with huge trays of snacks, in every conceivable variety. They moved through the room in sections, with Maddie now helping give them out. She knew the preferences of every patient, and most colonists too.

“Drama wants to run one of their old plays,” Maddie said, putting a little box of watermelon-flavored drink in Kit’s fingers. “Drones are setting up seats, bringing blankets too. I think everyone will be nice and worn out by the time it’s over.”

She winked, then ripped the straw off the side of the drink. She stood on tiptoe, tucking it into Kit’s pocket instead. “Don’t drink any until the play starts.” But before Kit could ask why, she was already gone, tail swinging back and forth as she followed the cart. “Lucien! I got some blueberries here with your name on them!”