DESPITE HER BEST EFFORTS, Becca’s early life of deprivation and fear still weighed heavy on her psyche. Though it was years ago, she needed no help remembering the challenges that humans and hybrids suffered beyond Prosperity’s border, and her memories could be sparked by something as simple as the sound of running water. So she fully understood what was in store for Matt if he were to be cast out of Prosperity.

In those outside settlements, fresh food was a rarity. The large portion of farm equipment had never been converted to solar and battery power, and those that were became generally useless because few battery reconditioning plants remained functional on the planet. Gasoline, a throw-back to the previous century, was also in constant short supply since few of the world’s refineries remained functional.

Like all newcomers, Becca knew that Matt had been sternly warned during Prosperity’s initiation training about embarking on critical missteps: ‘Follow the ethics and rules or risk returning to the outside.’ This warning was not in jest, and she was aware of multiple instances where expulsion indeed happened.

It was five o’clock. He would be arriving soon, knocking on the door. Smiling. Caressing her in his strong arms. “Such comfort there,” she considered, closing her eyes and recalling their physical closeness. “My desires for fleeting comforts, those endorphins, are working to cast aside what I must do. Don’t give in, girl. You’re tougher than this.”

He rapped at the door.

“Becca? Are you there?”

“Just a minute!” she pleaded. Becca looked around the corner to the bottom crack of the door to Sord’s room. Door closed, light on, likely studying.

“Good,” she thought. “I’ll coerce Matt into my bedroom. Luckily, my walls aren’t connected to Sord’s so the poor boy shouldn’t be disturbed by emotionally charged conversations that might occur after I confront him.”

Although nothing about Matt’s physical appearance was genetically enhanced, his body features were naturally large. Massive hands, roughened and calloused from years of toiling on straggler farms, dwarfed her own. His bones protruded jaggedly from every segment of his body, particularly his chiseled face. Long chin. Large, high-placed cheekbones. Lobeless ears sticking out from his close-shaved head that otherwise would have been covered by black hair to match his constant five o’clock shadow.

Matt was ever-energetic. Exuberant at times. Becca liked to think he was on a path to a happy place, that he was beginning to grasp the meaning of self-actualization. Such a thing was possible for even the most damaged straggler because they were lucky enough to arrive at Prosperity, the best place on Earth, that anyone was aware.

Newcomers were no longer subjected to severe deprivations. They experienced caring and concern between all citizens, irrespective of origins or belief systems. They lived a consistent set ethical rules based on obvious truths. A simpler life. A safer life.

“Do you mind if we talk in the bedroom for a minute?” she queried after letting him in.

Matt frowned momentarily, wondering what topic was so serious that they couldn’t talk right where they stood, arms around each other, in the kitchen.

“Pregnant?” he joked.

She smirked, shook her head, then grabbed his hand to lead him into the bedroom.

“Other things, then?” he continued. “Oh, you want to try to get pregnant!” he beamed, his dark eyes glaring mischievously.

Normally, his kidding was cute. Playful. Even sensual. But not this time.

“Can you sit down while we talk?” she requested, knowing this conversation would be more effective if she could look at him eye to eye, on an equal mental level.

“Hmm,” he acknowledged, then continued with levity. “Okay. What did I do wrong this time, my dear?”

She peered down at the tile floor, the same flooring throughout the entire apartment. Her mind wandered to her attempts to cover its monotony with colorful rugs and carpets.

“I . . .” she began. “You.”

She flipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Addressing him head-on was too difficult.

“Matt, when you rescued Sord and Robbie . . .”

She paused for a moment, thinking this hint might cause him to recall what he did and ask forgiveness. Repentance. Understanding. An indication he was not lying to himself. Progress toward self-awareness.

“Uh huh?” he responded. “I rescued them, but it wasn’t just me, of course. It was the team, and I happened to be among the first to get there. Thank God, he’s okay.”

She nodded nervously. “Did you notice the injuries on his head?”

Matt frowned and cast his eyes over her head, as if he was no longer talking directly to her. His shoe started tapping the floor. “Well, I haven’t seen him since he was unwrapped from his bandages, at least when I was at the hospital. But he’s a tough kid. He’ll recover quickly from his injuries.”

“Not that tough, at least not his forehead.”

Her comment hammered Matt, confirming the not-so-subtle implication of the damage he inflicted.

“What about his forehead? Those racnines slapped him pretty hard. Kid’s damn lucky his face is still intact. Hell, I’ve seen people completely torn apart in ten seconds by those monsters and other genetic miscreants. Not pretty. Where is he? I’d like to see how the poor guy is healing.”

“Never mind.”

She stopped there. It poured from her mouth unwillingly. Now that it was stated aloud, shouldn’t she just leave it at this? Leave it in a soft, uncertain, but mentally acknowledged place? An inference only. Indirect and purposely subtle. Wouldn’t that be enough of a warning that he, in his anger, broke one of Prosperity’s primary tenets to never harm another except when directly threatened? She could just forget about it and maybe this side of him would never show its nasty face again. Maybe this transgression would be the final one to turn him around and let him see the error of his ways.

Becca clasped her hands together and nervously fidgeted with her fingers.

Matt thought he’d take her lead. “Never mind? Not that big of a deal, I guess. I thought you were about to lay into me for something. But hey, how can you lay into this sweet baby face?” He grinned confidently.

“Baby face?” she thought. “He had to remind me. He hit my baby’s face. I don’t care if Sord is sixteen or six hundred sixteen. That’s my child.”

“Please don’t stand up yet,” she requested, noticing he was rising from the chair.

“Seriously?” he frowned.

“You hit him.” She paused. “You hit my boy while he was on the ground and unable to protect himself.”

***

“I did what?” he spat, red-faced by her accusation. “What are you talking about? You’re saying I hit Sord when I rescued him? Shit, I can’t believe you’d lie like that after I risked my own life to save him.”

She hoped he wouldn’t respond like this, but he was on the path. She prayed he’d stop and come clean.

“Matt,” Becca requested, taking a deep breath to expel her next comment. “Please lower your voice. Sord is a few meters from here, and he’ll hear everything.”

Matt had already risen, puffing his chest out as if readying for a fight. He was accustomed to confrontations like this and could agitate like the best of them. That’s what he grew up with, and he knew his imposing size would cause any normal human to cower. Normal, meaning unaltered. Not a hybridized mech or biologically enhanced clipper.

Becca was not enhanced, and he knew he could win this one by the sheer threat alone. Overwhelm her with his imposing size. Shift his large body around the room. Engage into her physical space. Pound the floor with his large feet. Strike fear in her to halt this path of accusation.

She stared at his knees as he paced the short stretch of floor between the bed and wall. His fists were clenching off and on. Veins were bulging in his neck. Then he stopped pacing and towered directly over her, as if he was falling forward onto her body.

He pointed his index finger an inch from her face, right between her eyes. She drew her head backward to avoid direct contact.

“You accuse me, the person who risked his own life, who took out time to leave work on a very busy day to join the search party? Me, the guy who rescued your son from death, who scared off the racnines that were just about to tear him to shreds? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Not wanting to get stepped on, Becca lifted her feet from the floor and crossed them under her legs. She was uncomfortable, sitting on a soft bed, her back arched unnaturally and unable to sit erect. Unable to breathe deeply. Without her feet on the floor, she was less steady, less able to make a quick escape should he get violent.

Her heart was pounding, and she was trying to maintain composure. She tried to recall any Prosperity saying or caution or principle she could muster to help her manage this moment at nominal damage to everyone.

“Voice!” she demanded.

“What? I’ll fucking hell yell so everyone in this entire unit hears me,” he screamed. “I don’t care what they think. That’s your problem, bitch! You care too much about this Prosperity bullshit. You’re always trying to be the model citizen, little Miss Righteous.”

She knew he was intentionally distracting her. Trying to divert the argument, to respond to his accusations. Deflect and evade. She knew this technique from her training.

“That’s off topic.”

“What the fuck topic?”

“You hit my boy.”

His teeth were clenching, and he started to spit as he talked. “Your boy? Your angel boy? The angel who was out doing stupid things, causing everyone to go out of their way to fix his fuck-up? That boy of yours who can do no wrong? Do you understand how much you spoil him?”

She could feel her neck tightening. “Should I let him go? Is this enough? He knows. We both know. Maybe he just needs time to cool off. No, I can’t do that. Not fair to me, or Sord, or him. He needs to admit what he did. To stop acting like a playground bully.”

“You’re not addressing what you did,” she stated as flatly as possible. “You hit him. I know.”

He was still towering over her, and she noticed his right fist slowly rising up.

“Do you plan on hitting me, too?” She was now thinking about how she could escape, along with Sord, from this anger.

Matt lowered his fist but kept it clenched by his side. “Did that little bastard tell you I did this? How the hell would he know what happened? He was fucking totally out of it. No way he could see. Did you ever think he was concocting this story because the little rat hates me? I’m not his father. I get that shit kind of look from him all the time. All the time.”

“Keep Sord out of this conversation, please.”

His head began shaking back and forth, and he lifted his finger again, pressing it hard multiple times against her forehead, despite her pulling back. “I’ll keep Sord wherever I choose to keep Sord. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to try to glue your broken family together? I could be doing anything I want, with anybody I want, but I chose you. Not because of Sord, but because of you. And now your boy is trying to get rid of me, and he’s apparently succeeding.”

“Stop touching my forehead,” she demanded calmly.

Matt pulled his hand back. He knew the rules. These weren’t laws, they were rules. Prosperity’s rules. Subject to interpretation. Circumstance. Argument. Panels. Always impromptu panels of citizen judges. He understood he was at the line, if not crossed over already. But he also knew Becca was in another place than him. She had her shit together. Maybe she wouldn’t respond to his usual ways. His old ways. Maybe it would take more than just a finger push on the forehead to get her to comply, to back-off.

“Who the fuck accused me of this assault, if not your little angel?”

Despite being in a heated argument, Becca felt an unusual sense of serenity. She knew Matt was not fully acclimated or adjusted to Prosperity’s ways. To its demands for kindness, fairness, and balance. And she felt sorry for him.

He grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it hard. “Who the fuck?”

“Remove your hand from my shoulder. Now!” she yelled, wincing at the pain.

He did so, but then raised his hand as if to slap her next.

She placed one finger in the air. “You hit me, then you are most certainly back out there. Out of Prosperity forever.”

He scowled, lowering his hand. “Wow, the ultimate threat, big girl! You think I’d waste my energy to hit you? Don’t worry. I’ll get you for this. You’re trying to out me. Must be something you don’t like about me. Maybe you don’t want our relationship to continue, so this is your convenient way to get rid of me. That’s it. Send Matt out among the other poor suckers who barely survive outside your nirvana here. Matt’s a reject. He’s not good enough for us Puritans.”

“Think what you must,” she responded. “I’ve been ignoring the signs until now. You have a violent streak that is not yet well-managed. Sorry, you just do. And your citizenship lessons, all those things you’ve been taught about how we live here, you can’t get those fully into your system. Maybe that’s why you hit my boy. If you’d only admit . . .”

“Bullshit!” he hissed, slamming his right fist hard on the bed. As he retracted his arm, his elbow whacked Becca hard, and she fell off the bed and onto the floor.

“Okay,” she slurred, grasping her cheek and jumping immediately from the bed to avoid further damage. “You need to get out of here. Now!”

“Leave? Oh, I’ll leave. But only when you tell me who lied about me. Was it your son? Couldn’t have been. Maybe it was his stupid little buddy who went along on the idiot adventure with him. Robbie? Yeah, maybe it was that little bastard. Know what? I’ll find out who it was, then it’s payback time.”

Becca was prepared for a bad reaction from Matt, but not a physical threat to her, and certainly not a direct threat to her son and his friend.

He continued. “If you tell anyone about this, you know what I’ll do? I’ll petition your fucking citizen panels to have your little angel taken away from you. I’ll tell them what a crappy mother you are. How you don’t watch out for your kid. How he does stupid, risky things all the time, and I’m the only one who’ll stop him. Stop you. Yeah, I’ll tell them so much they’ll have no choice but to take him away from you.”

“Get out!” she screamed. “Out of my room and my house.”

Matt stood straight up, still wondering if he’d crossed the line. He knew at this point it wasn’t about Becca or his relationship with her. It was about risking everything on this one mistake. One long outburst of anger. Of not admitting the truth. The callouses of youth, his scarred and scabbed sense of being from a harsh upbringing, were still there as they had always been. Crusty, violent, ugly, non-forgiving, vicious.

“Out!” she commanded in a lower voice. “I don’t want to see you again anywhere near us.”

“Oh? You’ll report me? I didn’t touch you.”

“Out!” she stated again firmly, pointing to the closed bedroom door.

She knew what words were to follow.

“You’ll be sorry,” he warned, slamming the door open and making a dent in the wall. “Sorry you accused an innocent person. Sorry you treated me so poorly without letting me explain. Sorry you crossed the wrong person.”

She felt trepidation. Would he turn to the right and head toward the front door, or veer left into Sord’s room?

“If he does,” she considered, “he’ll need to peel me off his back and pry my fingers from his ravaged face.”

He turned right. His back was to her as she followed a few steps behind.

Then she heard a voice from the dark hallway, “Mom?”

Becca’s head spun around, and she extended her hand instinctively outward in the universal signal to go back.

Sord quietly closed his door.

Matt didn’t hear his uttering. He was seething with rage, confused about what had just emanated from his mouth and uncertain if he’d face consequences. He grabbed his overnight bag, opened the apartment door, and slammed it shut as he exited.

She sped over to bolt lock it, then plopped down on the floor, exhausted and out of breath.

“Too much emotion,” she mouthed. “Even now, even with all this training I’ve had since we first got here, it’s still hard to fully manage these feelings. Threats. Yelling. Anger. I must control that animal in me. I am better than this. My emotions are not me. They are a bodily reaction, but I am not my body. I am this being. I observe. I manage. Clear thinking. Logical. Thoughtful. Considerate. Kind. Not everyone is this way. Some are still learning. Some will never learn. Fear nothing, but take nothing for granted.”

“Mom?”

Her head rose.

“You okay?” Sord asked meekly.

“Yes,” she replied. “Another of life’s lessons, taught in a few very emotional minutes. I’ll tell you what transpired. Why I did it. What he said.”

“But I heard already. He thinks I ratted on him or maybe even Robbie.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “He won’t be around this place any longer. I’m not sure he’ll even be around Prosperity, not after this behavior."