"Babies born after the death of their soulmate are unusually morose creatures. Prone to somber countenance, tearful moments, and quiet contemplation. Studies are unable to understand how the soul knows its counterpart is dead. It just simply knows."
Excerpt from "A History of the Fusion Separations"
—.
Margaret feels that strange twinge. A weird giddy lightness that fights through her usual sadness. She does not tell her parents anymore. She does not mention it to her brother.
But she knows it's not normal. She has no idea what it means. Only that it scares her.
"How did Citizen Tests go?" Michael asks, scanning the holographic display of what's in their ice receptacle.
She nods, "I think it went well." Her brother looks up with a raised eyebrow. She lets a small smile appear, "I'm sure I passed."
He grins, "of course you did. And they'll probably assign you to something phenomenal."
"I hope so." She admits. "I don't want to be underground. And I don't want to be shipped out either."
Her brother frowns, "an outer atmosphere assignment is unlikely. They usually only send a few a year. And—" he frowns. "You're not the right temperament."
She rolls her eyes. "I'm very well aware."
He wrinkles his nose, "sorry."
She shrugs, "I'm going to pick up some supplies. Are you coming by again tomorrow?"
Michael nods, "don't forget the little Harrison boy is expected to be born soon."
Margaret gets stiff. "I remember."
Michael says nothing as she scans her identification card at the door and shuts it behind her.
—
"Babies born with seemingly no sense of self preservation or with wild tendencies are "untethered". This sense of abandon comes from the fact that the soul's mate is not yet born. The wilder the child, the less likely their mate is to be born in their lifetime. Shifts in personality are to be carefully monitored and reported."
Excerpt from "A History of the Fusion Separations"
Margaret doesn't remember her birth. She doesn't remember the neighbors assigned to study her in her first days.
All she knows is what she is told. That she wouldn't stop crying for the entire period of time.
So she was deemed acceptable.
Her soulmate having been born and lost before she could ever take her first breath.
She was allowed to live.
At only 21 years old. She has been at over 36 births. A requirement once you turn 16. Once born, the baby is separated from its mother and placed in a sterilized environment on its own.
If the baby is noted as being morose, weepy, and generally unhappy. The child is deemed "safe for society" and returned to its mother.
If the baby is overly active for a newborn: noisy, wiggly, and overtly energetic, then they are also deemed "safe for society" and returned to their mothers. These babies soulmates have not yet enterered the world and are therefore are allowed to live. However a caveat is added to their Identity Card. Regular check ins are required to ensure their behavior has not changed.
So far, Michael's tendencies for wild fits of fancy have not changed. But she envies him all the same. He is not burdened by the knowledge of his true—
She doesn't think the word. Thinking the word sometimes brings the twinge.
But he is not burdened with sadness about never meeting his mate the way she is burdened.
Both are free to join in legality and residence with someone they chose and the Cohesive Council also deems acceptable.
So far Michael hasn't chosen anyone and she's had a hard time finding interest in anyone either.
She feels the twinge again and ignores it.
—
"Soulmates are drawn to each other like magnetic forces. Even if each counterpart is unaware of the other's existence, the universe will not be at rest until the pair is met. Which is why none can be allowed to live past their first few days."
Excerpt from "Expected Behaviors of an Anti-Fusion Society"
Her mother was silent on the way home from the Harrison boy's birth and subsequent death. Michael is not with them, having had to head to his own residence. Her father is pretending to listen to the news broadcast in the living room.
She is sick to her stomach.
—
"The Fusion of Soulmates created an imbalance of power. Soulmates were dangerous and unpredictable. They are therefore not allowed. Any child born "at peace" is deemed unsafe for society and eliminated."
Excerpt from "Expected Behaviors of an Anti-Fusion Society"
—
"Carter, Margaret?"
She stands, heading to the window where the bored looking man waits. She hands over her identification card and he scans it.
A whir catches her ear as a printer besides him starts to print something. Then she's being handed a long thin piece of paper.
"Take these results to the next window."
The dismissal is clear and she moves on.
The next window is a woman who looks marginally less bored. She feeds Margaret's results into a machine and then waits as the holo display shoots up a few documents.
The woman frowns. Then she looks at Margaret and back to the holo display.
"Wait here." The woman says flatly.
Margaret tries to read the display but it's encoded and backwards.
"Follow me." She turns to see a short man with round spectacles waving her forward. She follows him.
—
"Because of your results and your soulmate status. We would like to assign you to a special operations sector."
Her mind can't comprehend the nature of that statement, "like to assign?" She asks. "Aren't I just assigned wherever you deem fit?"
The man, an older gentleman with a weather worn face nods. "Usually that is how it goes. But your proficiency and the result levels of specific categories create an unusual shift in protocol." He shifts in his starched uniform, "what you would be assigned is not only confidential and mentally taxing, but it could and has been dangerous. Therefore, in this very specific case, you are allowed to choose."
Unease fills her. Most choices are made for them.
Whether your child lives or dies.
Diet is decided by genetics testing.
Clothes are manufactured for each citizen and to be worn at all times unless washing or sleeping or procreating.
School subjects, job placement, and residence are selected based on how and where a citizen can benefit society the most.
The twinge happens. Somehow propelling her curiosity. "What does this assignment entail?"
"You must decide first. I've told you it's dangerous. And you must not talk about your work at home. You'll be given a cover job and topics you're allowed to discuss. However, details are not shared unless you accept this position." He frowns, "and just know that if you accept this position, there is no changing your mind." His voice is grave. "You work until you retire or you will be involuntarily retired."
Shock must display on her face, but he stays stoic.
"Am I allowed to think about it?"
"No."
Half panic and an overwhelming half curiosity makes her feel as wild as Michael must always feel. "Alright." She whispers out, "I'll do it."
He holds out his hand, palm up. "Identification card." She hands it over and he looks at it seriously before pinning her with a calm and passive face. "Are you absolutely sure?"
She only hesitates a second before nodding. "I'm sure."
He nods, inserting her card into his main processor. After a minute he hands it back. A new laser engraved image rests tiny in the top right corner.
"Welcome to the DHUA."
"DHUA?"
And the first hint of humor appears. "Department of Historical and Unexplained Artifacts."
Her brows knit together, "unexplained artifacts? Of what?"
His eyes twinkle as he points to the door, "we will see you tomorrow." Then he hands her a blank mini holo card. "The address will appear 7:55am tomorrow. Your identification card now lets you travel throughout the city with free access."
She practically gasps, "what?"
His voice is stern. "Abusing the transportation freedoms we have will result in involuntary retirement." He gestures to the door. "A uniform will be provided for you. Meals are also provided."
"Where is my residence to be?"
"If your trial goes well, you will receive a new address in the expected two weeks."
"And if my trial does not go well?"
He looks at her with an expectant eyebrow raise.
"Involuntarily retired." She says, "got it."
"See you tomorrow."
—
A packet is handed to her as she exits. Her fake job assignment. Some secretary in some office building. She is instructed to memorize it and then dispose of it before she returns home.
She does so.
Her parents are thrilled with the simple job and she informs them that she will be moving in two weeks which sends her mother into a tizzy of deciding how to prepare and pack.
She eats dinner like normal and wonders about the next day.
—
"Due to the imbalance of power two fused souls create. Any indication that a soulmate has found its match must be reported immediately to the proper authorities. An increase in strength, sight, taste, smell, or any other enhancement is a clear sign that they have either met their mate or are about to. Do not hesitate. Report."
Excerpt from "Expected Behaviors of an Anti-Fusion Society"
—
The next morning is the strangest in her life. Never has she ever traveled without a strict itinerary. Her card swipes easily along the skytrains' reader and she boards, heading towards a district of the city she's never been. Buildings covered in solar panels are her main view. A designated green patch is seen every three blocks as is mandatory. 25 trees per five city blocks, spaced exactly apart.
Sleek vehicles slide past on the streets. But only a few and they are strictly electrical. Only the top percent of the population can afford a personal transportation machine.
Her shoes pad softly along the pavement as she follows the little holocard that leads her.
Eventually she comes to a nondescript building. An office building it looks like, but she's not sure. The door is blacked out and only a small symbol is affixed on the door.
Carter, Margaret. Enter.
The kind automated voice surprises her but she does as it says and it leads her past an uninterested secretary and two guards with weapons.
"Hey—" a voice says, "there's our new recruit. Welcome to hell, pal."
She blinks in surprise at the man in front of her. He sports some sort of facial hair she can't recall the name of.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't mind him." Another voice says. "He's just happy to have another set of hands."
She turns to see a tall thin blonde man. "And I am those hands?"
"Yep." He sticks out a hand, "Clint Barton."
"Margaret Carter."
"And I'm Howard Stark if anyone gives a rat's ass." The man with the facial hair says with a flippant bow, "is Phillips coming?"
"Nope. Trusted us with orientation." Mr. Barton responds.
"Interesting." Mr. Starl comments back. "His loss." He waves her forward, "come on. We've got quite the walk ahead of us."
—-
She's given an olive green jumpsuit, her name already stitched on the left side chest pocket. She's given sturdy boots, socks, and a hair tie. "Hair is to be worn in a bun or a braid at all times."
She nods, "that's fine, but.. why?"
Mr. Stark grins, "See, this is why you were hired. Even in a society where questions are despised, you still ask 'em. Good for you. It's a safety issue. I have seen too many scalps ripped from heads. Wear the hair tie."
Her throat goes dry at the image and she nods, "of course." Her fingers deftly work her hair back into a braid and then twirl it into a bun for good measure. "Anything else?"
"Some projects will require goggles or gloves or other items but those will all be given to you day of."
They take a left and follow a long seemingly unending corridor. "What diet are you on?"
She turns to the other man, the blonde one, "normal. Fiber, fats, protein, carbs, grains, fruits, herbs, vegetables."
He nods, "that's good. Having a strong stomach is necessary."
Her eyebrows raise, "because?"
Mr. Stark waves his hands, "let's not frighten her on her first day, hmm?"
"You got it, pal."
He glares at the blonde man but then laughs, leading them further down the corridor.
—
"If you believe a change in behavior or physical attributes is caused by fusion or potential fusion, you are required to report it. Do not alert the party as to you noticing the change, as a soulmate will lose all sanity in an effort to fuse or remain fused with their mate. You are in danger. Report."
Excerpt from "Expected Behaviors of an Anti-Fusion Society"
They walks for what seems like miles.
"Usually we have the cart. But newbies always got to walk the walk the first time. It's tradition."
"Newbies?"
"New person. You."
She doesn't have a response to that. And they walk in silence for a while more before a huge vault door greets them at the end. Margaret stares at it wide eyed. She's never seen anything so giant or so strange looking. "How…" she starts, "how old is this?"
Mr. Stark turns to her and there's the hint of a smirk, "more than 5,000 years old.
She frowns, "that's impossible! We only got to this planet 2,000 years ago!"
Mr. Barton turns to her and looks at her with a sympathetic gaze. "Yeah. That is what they say."
Mr. Stark nods, "yep, it's what they say." Then he walks over to the side of the door and types something in. Each beep echoing loudly until a double chirp sounds and the massive vault doors boom and creak as they slide apart.
"I don't understand what you're trying to imply." Margaret snaps back. But then she's cut off as strange energy thrums through her. Like the twinge but 1000x stronger. Her nose wrinkles at the strong smell. "Why does it smell like that?" She asks, putting her hand under her nose to block the smell from entering her nostrils.
"Smell like what?" Mr. Barton asks.
"Probably the must or dust." Howard grins at her, "sensitive nose, huh?"
She shrugs, "I don't know. I've never smelt anything like it before."
"That's because the Hygenic Council doesn't allow anything above ground to even think about getting dusty."
"Mr. Stark—"
"Call me Howard."
"Alright, Howard. I'm confused. This was an uninhabited planet when we arrived. This door cannot be that old."
They walk forward, the smell getting stronger although she seems to be adjusting to it. Her skin still is prickling like it's about to get goosebumps.
"Tell me what they taught you in history books."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me what they tell you when talking about our arrival and life on this planet."
"You're saying you're not aware?"
"I'm saying I want you to say it. Out loud."
She frowns but knows that she's on trial for this position and perhaps being questioned about common knowledge is normal. "That our origin planet was consumed by the War against the Soulmates—"
Howard makes an irritating buzz sound.
She waits, "is that supposed to mean something?"
"She's never watched a game show." Mr. Barton says, "the buzzer means nothing."
"What's a game show?"
Both men sigh as if she's made them immensely sad.
"That sound is to indicate you've said something incorrect. But keep going. I want to hear the rest."
She's frowning at them but does as she's asked. "We who remained had to find refuge elsewhere. And we set sail across the atmospheres to find this planet." He makes the noise again but waves for her to continue. Now she's really feeling annoyed. "We landed here, but our Heritage Council knew soulmates were dangerous and could cause the destruction of this planet as well. Which is why there have been strict rules and laws about anti-fusion."
He makes one last buzzer sound before plopping down on something that looks like a strange metal bench. "That's what they told you."
She looks around. It's a cavernous room. She can't even see the ends of it. The roof is a mile above her and the walls are too far away in all three directions. Shelves thirty feet high wing off away from them, but the area they stand is an open space with what looks like desks, chairs, strange machinery and a small kitchen.
"And…" she's smart. 'Always been too smart', her mother always said. But then her mother would add, "stay smart, but stay quiet." And that's something she's always kept in her heart and mind when things don't add up or when she disliked how things were. "Who is 'they'?" She asks, eyeing them both.
"The Historical Council."
Her eyes widen, "you're insinuating the Historical Council is…"
"A bunch of liars."
"Clint."
"What, you know it's true. Hell, they pay us to find out exactly that."
Howard winces, "I mean… he's not incorrect."
Her mind is reeling, "what are you all saying?"
"We never left."
"Left…?"
"Earth."
"What is earth?"
They snort, but then they shake their heads, "no," Howard says softly, "sorry, we're not trying to be mean. Earth is our origin planet."
"You mean where we originated from?"
"Yes.
"The one the soulmates destroyed?"
"Yes. And the one we're on. Right now."
"That's impossible. It was destroyed."
Howard walks away without saying anything. She looks at the other man,"Mr. Barton—"
"Call me Clint. We do first names here."
"Alright, Clint, if this is some sort of test—"
"Look."
She turns back to where Howard is approaching them, he has something in his hand. "Proof. Have you seen a map of our origin planet before?"
"No, I heard they were all destroyed."
He sets what looks like a heavy book onto the table. "This was called a textbook. They used to use physical books in classes." He flips to a page and then grabs a flap, opening something that's folded up into the pages. He lays it flat. "Look."
She frowns, "this is a strange map of our pla—" she cuts off as his fingers tap on the top right corner.
Map of World
Copyrighted 1987
Then he drags his fingers down to the bottom corner where text is encased in a small box like a non 3D holocaption.
The colors on this map (see illustration left) denote depth and height. Earth has diverse topographical features on each continent.
"This is impossible." She says slowly, mind trying to wrap around that information. "It's impossible."
Howard shrugs, "welcome to earth, Margaret." Then he frowns. "That name's too long for you. You need something better, something more snappy."
Relieved at the change in topic as her mind can't even process it at the moment, "what do you mean? We're only allowed our identification name."
"Yeah okay but you need a nickname, just for here."
"What's a nickname?"
Clint laughs, "there's too much for just one day. We need to start slow." He turns to us, "are you willing to trust us?"
Margaret feels like that's a big question for having known them for such a short amount of time. "I don't even know you."
"Sure your do." The other man grins, "I'm Howard. This is Clint. The man you spoke to yesterday was Chester. We've all been told the same things from birth. But only a lucky few—" he gestures to those present in the room, "—ever get to know the actual truth."
"You're telling me that the history I learned growing up, about our entire world… is a lie?"
They both nod slowly.
She scoffs, "if so, why? Why lie to us? To what purpose or end?"
Clint gestures to the cavernous room but Howard cuts him off, "we're not sure. Not entirely. Whoever decided that our job needed to exist only told the first of us as much truth as they were willing to share. We needed context and they gave us some, and that's what we're passing on to you know. But we don't know even close to anything. We're not the first to work in this bunker, and we won't be the last." Clint looks at him with an eyebrow raised and he sighs, "and yeah, we think it has to do with the soulmates."
Peggy frowns, "the soulmates?"
He nods, "doesn't everything revolve around that? The fearmongering about them? Babies killed because they might meet their soulmate?"
"Soulmates are dangerous." She spits out, like a reflex.
Clint shrugs, "oh, so you've met a pair?"
Her frown deepens, "no, they're illegal."
Howard tilts his head, "the people themselves are illegal?"
That causes her to pause. "No… It's not them… it's what being soulmates makes them do."
Clint steps forward, arms open, "which is what?"
"It makes them crazy. They get powerful and then they got greedy with that power. They tried to take over…"
And Howard has a funny look on his face like he's telling a joke when he says, "that's what they told you."
"You're saying they were lying about that as well?"
Howard gets closer, talking quieter, "we don't know. We think..." His eyes flick to Clint, "maybe that's not actually what happened.
"Well then what happened?"
Clint sighs, "we need to start at the beginning."
Howard nods. "Okay. So—"
—
"Soulmates are fused at their very core. Their thoughts and emotions are heavily intertwined. They have the power of the other, even if they are thousands of miles apart. Their bond is so strong that they will kill to protect one another. Additionally, the death of a fused soulmate will usually result in the remaining partner dying from shock at the loss, or going insane out of grief. Very few fused partners last more than a year after the death of their soulmate."
Excerpt from "A History of the Fusion Separations."
—
She sits and listens as they talk to her. "The DHUA was formed to conceal the artifacts that remained on earth after the Fusion Separations." Clint starts.
"Nuclear war decimated this planet." Howard says with a somber expression.
"What is nuclear war?"
"A type of explosion that destroys everything in its wake. The threat of the soulmates was so perilous that they basically razed the surface of the earth to start over."
Margaret frowns, "how many soulmate pairs were there?"
"There's no records, or at least none that survived or that we've been allowed to know about." He gestures to the bunker, "but the leaders who decided soulmates were not safe anymore, used this bunker to survive the nuclear fallout. They lived down here for over 7 hundred years." He points to a far side, "there used to be full gardens. Soil is still there but it's buried under stuff now. There were huge kitchens and sections of living spaces, but all that material was brought to the surface to start new when the surface was deemed livable again."
"So why keep this bunker?" She shifts, her skin dancing again, like she needs to shiver or stand.
"Well, even with all the nuclear blasts, millions of artifacts remained. Some were destroyed by radiation or even carried radiation on them for a bit— radiation is bad news by the way— but many things were left over. Perhaps they weren't close enough to a blast to have been destroyed." He shimmies his shoulders like he has a chill. "They've been collecting them and storing them secretly here for centuries now. We study them, decide if they're viable, useful, important in a historical context or a waste. And we deal with them accordingly. Most things are just fascinating or confusing. There's so many things I can't even begin to comprehend the purpose for."
"But surely the people in this bunker knew their purpose."
"Not only was the majority of earth's population eliminated, they lived down here for over 700 years. So much knowledge was lost as the generations turned over and—" Clint frowns, "we're starting to think it was on purpose."
"They wanted people to forget they were on this earth?"
They both nod. "We think so."
"But… why?"
Howard walks over to one of the desks and taps keys that make small beeps and then a drawer slides open. He holds something up.
"We found something."
"What?"
Howard gestures her forward and they walk in silence for a bit between shelves. Until they come to a separate machine. "This is an old projector."
"Like a hologram?"
"Yeah except not three dimensional, and it only projects single frames not videos."
She's about to ask what that means but he starts flipping switches and clicking something. A white sheet she's just noticed lights up and her eyes widen.
A man and woman stand back to back, looking righteously out of the image. Their clothes are foreign to her, but they each have a glowing heart. And the words take her breath away.
Don't let Schmidt do this shit!
Vote to retain Soulmates Rights!
"Schmidt?" She asks, "Like… JoHaan Schmidt?"
Clint nods, "the supposed savior."
"I—" she shakes her head, "I don't understand."
Howard slips another frame into a holding sleeve and clicks a button, sending another picture up.
It's a man, grieving at a graveside, anguish on his face.
Don't wait till it's too late.
Join a soulmate's grief group today.
Then he clicks another.
A woman dressed nicely with red lips and well done hair looks excitedly at them and her eyes are twinkling.
Feel the time coming soon?
Get ready to meet your soulmate with Pharson's Pharmacy.
Your local store for all your clothes, makeup, and feminine needs!
She furrows her brow, "what?"
Clint's voice is quiet. "It used to be an exciting thing apparently."
Howard clicks another.
A man stands anxiously looking at his watch. He's in some sort of station with people bustling around him. She spots a suitcase in his hands.
Global Travel Inc.
The tried and true travel company
Over 3 Billion Soulmates connected by GTI
Apply for travel aid today!
Her brow furrows deeper, "I don't understand. The soulmates were aided in finding each other?"
"Looks that way."
They're staring at her like she's supposed to get something. But she's feeling very unsettled.
"There's one more."
Howard places in one more slide.
It's a man and a woman side by side, working together, lifting what appears to be a heavy beam. They're staring at each other fondly.
Building a Better Community
We know that everyone needs help
Call 870-753-2265 toll free
Soulmates for Service
Using our strength to strengthen your community
The projector shuts off.
Howard crosses his arms. 'We have a really ugly feeling."
He looks at Clint who is nodding. "A really really ugly feeling."
She's staring at the image still. The soulmates pictured look nice. Kind. Willing to help. "What feeling?"
"That maybe… just maybe the wrong side won the war."
She doesn't respond. It's a strange unsettling feeling that she's experiencing. Like she should be rejecting this. This is nonsense. Soulmates are dangerous. That's what they've been taught from birth.
And yet… that strange twitch glitches through her and it's so strong she has to keep herself from gasping. The back of her mind has always wondered what it would have been like to meet her soulmate. To share a bond so strong that only death itself could rend it apart. Her skin prickles like she might get goosebumps.
"Tell me more." She breathes out, "about Earth."
—-
*A/N - Thank you to those who reached out and encouraged me to keep posting here. I will try to do so as consistently as I can
