Paramount Proliferation

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Red, yellow, and green, joined with orange, blue, and pink, coloring a backdrop for warm air before a chill front would drop in. Then, abruptly turning even colder, forcing hues of white and gray to take center stage.

Through the window, she heard faint laughter. Rain or shine, kids could be heard running and playing all day. Bringing awareness to her flower-printed jumpers, never soiled from falling in the dirt or getting caught in a storm.

He was the only one she had to talk to; that was how it had always been.

“Why am I here?” She’d ask, rattling her chains without distress.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” was the response she received time and time again.

He never told her his name nor called her by one. But, apart from being a fixture in the 250-square-foot room, he cared for her well enough—food, clothing, and shelter.

“What more could you ask for?” he joked once.

By the time she was fifteen, she had surrendered. She stopped asking questions and settled into her routine. Accepting her compliance, he unleashed her. He removed the shackles, giving her free reign of the room.

She’d dreamed of climbing out the window and landing softly below. Unsure of where to go or what to do. The monotonous click sounded, and she ran to the window to forge a plan. But freedom was short-lived as her wings remained clipped upon discovering the four-story drop to the concrete below. Leaving her to continue watching from the darkened corner out of sight.

One by one, she matched faces to giggles only to realize there wasn’t a single girl among them. She’d been blind to the gender difference, unable to lay eyes on them with her previous restraints. So, she just assumed there would be others like her. But she sat and watched, day in and day out, until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why aren’t there any girls down there?” She blurted out as he entered the room one day.

He responded without a flicker of surprise, “Come away from the window. I have something to show you.”

“Why am I here?”

“You’re going to learn.” He ignored her question, drawing her attention to what he was holding, “Reading, writing, math.”

Unable to contain her excitement, her redundant question fell to the back of her mind. He couldn’t hide the smile at her enthusiastic response. Touching the tape recorder, notebooks, and books, she mimicked an infant’s voyage experience in life. She sat on the bed as instructed. Fidgeting with her hands while he scraped a wooden desk into the room and wedged it against the solid wall that met up with the corner of the window.

“Thank you,” she couldn’t refrain, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing.

Months passed. He brought her books filled with other worlds, fairy tales, and fictional stories of conquest.

“I can’t bring you anything modern or non-fiction. That means real-life stories,” he added, responding to her confused expression, and pointing out the window. “I could get in a lot of trouble just by teaching you some basics.”

Still confused, she looked up, taking in a lavender glow that framed him. He was still pointing down to her book when he met her eyes, and she thought about their age difference for the first time. Growing up, he seemed much larger and subsequently older. Now, she realized there couldn’t be more than 15 years between them.

She felt their distance closing without either of them moving. Compelling her to ask in a whisper, “Why am I here?”

He stepped away in response, taking her full body into perspective before turning on his heel and marching out the door.

Throwing herself to the floor, she scampered along the base of the door until air hit her ear at the gap in the frame.

“I think it’s time.” She heard him say. “Ok, I will,” he continued after a long pause.

His returning footsteps pushed her away from the door, forcing her to jump on the bed just in time to find an inconspicuous sitting position.

“Sorry about that,” he said, sitting beside her.

“Why am I here?”

Hanging his head, he began, “right.” Then, getting to his feet, he walked over to the window and stared at the empty open space before continuing, “right. Sixteen years ago, the government spun a tale. They said there would be a war that could lead to complete extinction, and everyone needed to do their part to overcome it. Girls and women needed protecting, hidden,” he said rather sternly while forcing his body to attention, mimicking a soldier. He went at ease after turning to look at her and continued.

“You were a newborn. My parents felt something wasn’t right, and my mom even claimed to have a premonition.” Sitting back down next to her, he took her steady hands, “no one’s ever heard from them again, the girls and women. The government wasn’t lying. There was a war coming. One that they created, with the intention, more than likely, to end us.” He spread his arms around and even pointed out the window.

“But why am I here?”

“My mom found you in the street. Since the women left, we’ve been expected to continue life preparing every day for the foreseeable war. Everyone knows something else is going on, but it has been impossible to fight back while concerned about repopulating. It seems that every day, another person believes in our cause. But many worry it’s too late. There won’t be enough time before they spring something on us.”

Unable to pick up on what he was trying to tell her, he sighs before realizing there’s no other way. “My parents fled and left me with you while they searched for others. We need youth. We need muscle. We need numbers. We need you to help mother our army.”

“Mother?” She questioned, looking down, horrified at her stomach.

Nodding, he said, “you know what I’m talking about. That’s part of the reason it was decided to keep you uneducated and separate.”

“Separate? Your parents found others?”

“Yes,” he perked up, “twelve in total right now. Not including my mother, she, unfortunately, can’t have any more children. You’re the youngest from ‘before.’ And now that you seem to be of age physically, it’s time for you to join the others.”

“How do I have a baby?”

“Well,” rubbing the back of his head, she watched as his face turned a couple of shades of red. “You have the choice now. You can either get impregnated traditionally or artificial insemination, which is what most of the younger women have chosen to do for at least the first couple times.”

“Couple times? How many times?”

“Yeah,” looking uncomfortable again, “well, in part, it is up to you. This is why I think they’ve left the younger ones uneducated. So, there is a less likely chance they’ll say no. It hasn’t been necessary, though. Once they start, women are letting their bodies decide when it’s time to stop. That’s why I decided to at least start you on the basics. Then, if you choose to come with me and prove that you are willing to continue with us, it could start a whole new era. Maybe you can even help me teach?”

“But why?”

“That’s the question we don’t have an answer to yet. Depleted resources? Population control? Who knows, no one sees a human person with the government anymore. Armored vehicles, riot gear. Even politicians are wearing it. They know we have the right to be pissed. They’re just unsure when we’ll ‘figure it out.’”

“Where are the others?”

“Burrowed beneath the ground. As soon as the government made its announcement all those years ago, people fled to their underground bunkers. The men can come out, but the women can’t. Not yet.” He said, shaking his head. “They found each other, though. The skeptics. And they’ve been working ever since to combat whatever comes next.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“I know. But the sooner you decide, the sooner we can figure out what comes next.”

Resting beside the window, she stared into the darkness of the only view she’d ever known. The only version of the world she knew existed.

Deciding there was more to her life than this room, she straightened her posture and said, “I’ll go with you. I just have one question right now. What is your name?”

Smiling, he said, “August. What would you like yours to be?”