Unlike some of the others who are unhappy with the leadership, I haven't been loud with my protests. I try to make changes from within. I don't believe overthrowing the leaders and starting over will be beneficial. There's too much we don't know about this world, nor do we know all the plans that were put in place on Earth—a place many of us have only ever heard of. A place our parents rarely mention. Because they're not allowed? Or because it was so bad, they wish to pretend that it doesn't exist?
"Where are we going?" I ask, hoping for a different answer now that we are beyond the fence.
"To the scientific outpost," the man in charge of escorting me says.
It's the same line he said when he collected me from the lab. Which sounds great in front of other people, legitimate even. Except as far as I am aware, there is no scientific outpost.
There are people working on hydroelectricity, and a sewage pump, and other infrastructure beyond the fence. But there is no other lab.
"Right… Except I wasn't aware there was a scientific outpost. People go out and retrieve samples and we study them in the lab." And after the attack by the giant bat-like creature, very few teams have left the colony. Officially, it's because of a backlog in processing the existing samples.
While we have a lot of samples. It is a bullshit excuse.
And it's not because of the ferocious animal either—it's because of the alien rumors, which means they aren’t rumors. And they give me hope Sabine is alive and captured.
The people who were there are no longer talking, and I had to stop asking questions when one of the leaders pulled me aside. I cried and acted as though distraught I didn't even have a body to burn—if my sister is dead, there is nothing I can do about it. But if she is alive, I want to know. My tears, the leader understood.
And since I don't want them watching me too carefully, I have bitten my tongue, instead of asking more questions about the aliens who battled with the giant creature, which is something like a featherless ostrich from Earth, according to the pictures I've seen of both.
Whenever people leave the colony, they take photos of the animals they see. But I want to sit out and watch the animals in the wild. I want to observe them and see how they live and what they eat. I want to do my job.
I'm a biologist. I'm supposed to be studying the animals that live on this world, to determine if they are edible, and if we can breed them. So far we can eat what lives here without ill effect. So far, I haven't been allowed to keep live specimens. People are worried about diseases—and so am I. But most people won't be thinking how our diseases could destroy life on this planet. They worry that the diseases on this planet will destroy the colony without understanding it works both ways. "Is the scientific outpost a place where I can study live animals?"
I've been asking to study live animals since finding out they were edible. But no, priority was given to plants and mushrooms, and after the attack the wildlife is now considered dangerous. Even though I pointed out that stealing an animal's egg is always a bad move, even if you can't see the parents, they won't be far away.
Perhaps the leaders have decided that it will be okay for me to study living animals, as long as they are kept away from the colony, and that it will give me something to do besides question my sister's death. I don't believe she's dead. Sabine is tough and smart.
Smart enough to have never gotten mixed up with the dissenters.
She doesn't think that making noise will change anything. She thinks we need to shut up and put up for the first two years, and if we're still alive after that, then we can review how things are working. To me, it's already clear they aren't working.
Because I haven't been able to study the animals native to this world, I study the humans around me and the way they are dealing with the stress of this new world, the way the jobs were picked for them depending on their attitude, not their interest, and the clinical way the breeding of the next generation of humans has been decided.
I'm not fucking stupid. I know exactly why certain pairings were created—they are needed for genetic diversity along with accurate records to prevent inbreeding—and I understand the gender imbalance as more women means more babies. However, we aren't chickens, or cattle, or pure-bred cats—they were a thing two hundred years ago.
I've read things in the history database, which I find almost impossible to believe, but it's held up as the epitome of human society before the ecological collapse.
And while it might take us a couple of thousand years, repeating those mistakes and destroying a second planet isn't the smart thing to do. I also don't think treating us like chickens is the way to run a colony.
People want answers. They want free will. They need more than just being useful and knowing that their contribution will benefit a future generation. People want to live.
I want to live.
I cross my fingers and hope that wherever Sabine is, she is alive and that it's not a terrible life.
The man in charge of my four-person escort, which seems a little excessive considering I'm a scientist, turns to look at me and finally answers my question. "Yes, it is where you will study the local wildlife."
My eyes widen and I almost let out a squeal of delight. But there's something in his tone that holds me back. There's a cruelness in his eyes that makes me wonder if I am being set up.
I'm glad the man I am genetically matched with has no interest in being with me. He enjoys the company of men over women, which means that we get on rather well.
Some women are very unhappy with the man who has been chosen to father two of their children. When these plans were made on Earth, I don't think anyone considered what living would be like on the ground.
I refuse to play the game and vie for male attention. Sure, I love getting laid, but the opportunities are slim. Most people assume Patrick and I are together, and everyone is so happy that we will raise our children together—that we can agree on. Being close to me also helps protect him from the colony leaders who might disagree with the things he enjoys.
Humans aren't chickens.
We want to find love.
