A Thin Red Line

“Come, come,” the man in soiled surgical scrubs said as he motioned Eve to follow him into the operating room.

Eve could see dirt or dried blood beneath his fingernails. She shivered, looking quickly at the two other girls and one boy sitting on makeshift chairs in the waiting room, and like her, gas masks securely fastened to each face.

She looked back to the man; head not covered with a gas mask. Face beaded with what looked more like fresh motor oil than sweat. A dark red spot, what was called a blood burn, spiderwebbed across his forehead and left cheek. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh. “He’d been there,” she thought to herself. “He’d been there when the winds blew sour.”

The man smiled broadly, revealing two rows of teeth much too small for his mouth. “Yes, my Dear.” He motioned again, and then stepped so that his body held the door open for her.

Eve rose from the pile of discarded blankets and gowns sticky with what Eve decided was spilled maple syrup, though that made no sense. No one had had such a delicacy in decades, not since…

It’s maple syrup! Someone had somehow held onto some unknown quantity, had brought it with them, and then had been sloppy while waiting for their turn.

And now it was her turn. She looked again at the other girls and boy, searching the clear plastic of their gas mask visors, but all eyes searched the ground intently, perhaps hoping to find a lost bottle of maple syrup.

“Was it right to call them girls and boy?” She asked herself as she took the first leaden step towards the man, who licked his lips absently, and the room beyond. They were no longer children after all. Today she and the two girls and boy turned eighteen. They were now adults in the eyes of the Commonwell. It was not only their right but their responsibility to complete the Rite of Extension and then to procreate. Still. That didn’t make it any easier. Any less scary.

Eve jumped as the airtight door snicked shut behind her. She hadn’t realized she’d stepped across the threshold.

The man clamped a finger and thumb over his nostrils, closed his eyes, inhaled, and then exhaled as if blowing his nose.

“Ah,” he exclaimed with a smile. “That’s better.”

A woman in clean scrubs stepped out of a corner shadow and offered the man a gauze pad.

He accepted the pad and held it to his now bleeding nose. “Thank you, Trudy.”

Trudy nodded silently and stepped back into the shadow.

“Good afternoon Eve,” the man said as he pocketed the blood-soaked gauze in his scrub pants. “I’m Doctor Stevens.” He patted the operating table with a hand.

Eve saw the fingernails of that hand also looked packed with dirt or dried blood. She shivered as icy nails dug into her gluteal cleft and dragged their way up her spine and over her scalp.

Looking around, she saw an operating table, freshly washed, water, maybe alcohol, dripping to the floor. Eve had no idea which, if either. The gas mask filter meant she smelled only her recycled breath. Next to the table was a tray with instruments, several scalpels, forceps, clamps, and other instruments Eve didn’t recognize, but all patched with rust or dried blood, or both, as well as several threadbare cloths which had at one time Eve supposed been white, now stained pink. A single naked bulb above the operating table provided the only light.

“I-…I s-s-s-suppose this is…” Eve’s voice trailed off.

“Necessary?” Doctor Stevens offered in a gentle voice. “Oh, my Dear. It’s beyond necessary. The very future of the Commonwell depends upon it.” He patted the table again.

Eve looked towards the dark corner where Trudy had disappeared but saw nothing. Trudy was one with the dark.

“The very future,” Doctor Stevens repeated.

Eve looked at him.

His smile was what Eve imagined a grandfather might have for his granddaughter and her alone. Warm. And comforting, like a hug. His eyes dancing with the light of her life.

Eve found her lips curve into a smile. She couldn’t help herself.

And yet…

“But…” Eve put a hand to her breast. “Will it hurt?”

Doctor Stevens shook his head. “You won’t feel a thing.” He turned away from her.

She watched his back as his arms and hand moved over a table. When he turned, he held a syringe with a long needle up in front of him. “This will hurt more, and it will feel no more than a bee sting.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the tip of the needle where a small amount of fluid leaked out and dropped to the floor. “What’s a bee sting?” She asked.

Doctor Stevens smiled sheepishly. “That’s a little before your time, isn’t it? It’s…,” he thought for a moment before his smile grew a little larger, “it’s like a drop of the rancid rain. The yellow, not the green.”

Eve nodded in understanding.

Doctor Stevens nodded as well. “Good.” He took a step towards her, syringe held up before him, before stopping at her next question.

“Will there be a scar?”

A guffaw burst from Doctor Stevens before he bit down on it. “I’m sorry.” He held up a dirty hand of supplication. “Trudy,” he called towards the dark corner. He looked back to Eve. “The Spry always ask that. The one before you, and, no doubt,” he nodded towards the waiting room, ”the ones after you.”

Trudy stepped out of the shadow, pulling up her scrub shirt while Doctor Stevens set down the syringe and lifted his shirt, the spiderwebbing of blood burn shown on his abdomen and chest. Both stood there, letting Eve look at their naked chests. Right down the center of each one’s breastbone, ran a thin red line. Barely noticeable. Hanging from a leather thong around each of their necks was a small locket.

“That’s it?” Eve asked.

“That’s it,” Doctor Stevens answered as he dropped his shirt.

Trudy dropped her scrub shirt.

“Hardly noticeable, isn’t it?” Doctor Stevens asked.

Eve nodded.

Doctor Stevens nodded to Trudy who retrieved a small stainless-steel tray and handed it to him. “After I make the incision, with a laser of course, I use the rib spreader, remove your heart and replace it with this.” He held the tray in front of Eve.

Eve gasped.

Lying on the tray was a small, round stainless-steel ball, about the size of her own fist, Eve imagined, with six stainless-steel tubes protruding from it. Unlike the instruments and room, the mechanical heart which would soon be pumping her blood was shiny. Pristine. Not even a speck of dust. Her hand reached to touch it, but then she stopped.

“Go ahead,” Doctor Stevens encouraged. “It won’t bite.”

Eve giggled nervously as her hand moved forward, her middle finger brushed the cold metal. She drew back her hand as if she’d touched a pot hanging over a cook fire. “Cold,” she said as she rubbed her finger.

“It’s all right,” Doctor Stevens said. “It warms up quickly once it starts.” He handed the tray back to Trudy. “And then, you never have to wear a gas mask again.”

“Really?” Eve smiled in desperate optimism.

“Really.” Doctor Stevens smiled. It was that grandfather smile again.

Eve felt her apprehension evaporate like a canteen left open in the Desolate.

“So,” Doctor Stevens said as he put his hands on Eve’s shoulders and led her to the table. “Are you ready?”

Eve let herself be led and then hopped up on the table of her own volition. “The lockets. Are those…?” Her voice trailed off.

Doctor Stevens laughed again. He looked to Trudy who wore a knowing smile. “The Spry always ask that too, don’t they?” He pulled his out from under his shirt as Trudy stepped up and pulled her locket out.

“Look closely,” Doctor Stevens said.

Eve did.

The lockets were indeed in the shape of human hearts, actual human hearts.

“They’re our actual hearts,” Doctor Stevens said. “And watch this.” He pinched gently on the heart, which opened like an old coin purse, revealing a small purple crystal.

Eve gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Doctor Stevens agreed. “It’s called iolite. It symbolizes long life.”

“And I’ll have one? In my heart I mean?” Eve’s eyes sparkled with delight.

“Of course,” Stevens replied. “Everyone receives one in his or her heart. On a leather thong, ready to wear.”

Eve’s hand touched the place on her chest where heart pendant would lay. “And I’ll wear mine too.” Eve whispered in child-like awe.

Trudy nodded and smiled.

“Uh-huh,” Doctor Stevens nodded. “You’ll wear yours too. It’s like a…well, it’s like a class ring.”

Eve looked from the pendants completely lost.

“Well,” Doctor Stevens thought about it. “Well, it’s like when you start your monthly blood-let. Right? It’s a rite of passage.” He nodded.

Eve thought about it and finally nodded.

“So,” Doctor Stevens began as he clapped his hands together. “Are you ready? The Commonwell is waiting.” He held his arms out.

Trudy appeared, masked, gloved, and gowned, and slipped a gown over his outstretched arms.

Eve inhaled a deep breath. Held it. Then let it out. Nodded.

Doctor Stevens nodded back at her as Trudy covered his face with a mask and then a face shield. He placed his hands on her shoulders, turned, and gently pushed her down onto the table.

Trudy stepped forward, removed the filter from Eve’s gas mask and replaced it with another as Dr. Stevens slid his hands into a pair of rusty cotton gloves.

“Now close your eyes and breathe normally,” Doctor Stevens said as he slid the needle into Eve’s external jugular vein and depressed the plunger.

A moment later, Eve lay dead on the table. Her chest open. Her sternum laying without regard across her throat.

Doctor Stevens placed Eve’s heart in a stainless tray filled with dry ice. “Advise the Grange Mistress I have a new heart for her. She needs to be here within the hour.”

Trudy nodded, pressed the button on a small device in her ear and began to speak. She nodded to whatever was said in her ear and then looked to Doctor Stevens. “Her man?” She asked.

Doctor Stevens smiled wearily, went to the door, opened it, and, smiling, motioned to the young man sitting in the waiting room. “Come, come.”