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"But, Nona, why did you contact us? Would you like to come here and join us?"
Waltraud's voice echoed in the silence. Outside, the distant storm filled it with its hissing howling, but even this current nuisance did little to quell the sudden, half-hearted hope which welled in Nona's heart.
She paused, her breathing heavy, considering her answer.
For as long as she could remember, Nona had lived in this facility. The scientists which raised her and kept her in good health had given her all she had ever wanted for. One of them came to mind just now, a motherly woman with wise brown eyes and braided brown hair. This woman she had called "mama". Hearing Waltraud's voice—aged, firm, sweet in the same way berries tasted—reawakened those old memories.
"Why can't I come home with you?" she had once asked the scientist as she went about powering the facility down, a little less than five years before the poison storms completely overwhelmed the last bastions of the old world. "Why must you leave me here?"
"Darling," the scientist had answered, kindly, "I wish I could. You were brought here for a purpose, and there's nothing I could do to change that."
"Can you stay?" When she hesitated, Nona added quickly. "Just for tonight. I'm… I'm scared."
"All right, I'll stay."
The scientist had disappeared only to return with a sleeping bag and a portable light. Because of the poison storms affecting the world power generation was becoming unreliable, and out here, the last natural defenses against the encroaching poison, there were other dangers. Solar power was expensive, the panels prone to breaking or scratching, and their components inherently fragile. For that same reason electrical lines could not be laid underground; the facility had to be self-sufficient.
There were no fault lines anywhere, the price of stability, so geothermal power was out of the question. Nucleonics became their only option, and despite the heavy stigma against it, proved to be dependable. But supplies were limited, water scarce, and the weather ensured that traditional designs could not be used. What power was generated went into keeping the facility powered, to find a solution, to keep the survivors alive.
She watched as the scientist laid down, her head facing Nona. "Good night, dear," she said. She toggled the light on as the laboratory powered down. Now the only sounds were the ventilation system and the incessant beeping of the machines. Nona had learned to filter these sounds out long ago.
Now she listened to a new sound, of her mama breathing.
"Good night, mama," she murmured, synthetized vocals quietly warbling. "Thank you for joining me."
She shook her head, banishing that old memory. She had an opportunity, the only opportunity, and she was not going to let the storm above interfere with the signal any further.
"Oh, thank you very much for the offer," she said, genuinely grateful, "but I can't leave this facility just yet. No, there is…" she faltered only slightly. "Something much more urgent that I need to discuss with you."
As she spoke new thoughts emerged in her mind unbidden. She watched as her mama continued pottering about in her memories, at first placidly with little sense of urgency but then hurriedly, with worried creases on her face. She knew humans aged with stress but never expected to see her mama turn overnight into a woman thrice her years.
"Fight back?" interrupted Waltraud's husband, Theodor. "How do you imagine us fighting back against what has plagued this world for generations?"
This was the question she had posed to mama. The scientist was now the only one who came and worked with her every day, all the others appearing ever so often. New and unfamiliar faces she did not recognize. "How can you stop the poison storms?"
"We… we can't. It is beyond us." Her voice was aged and cracked, stress having extracted a heavy toll from her. The scientist, her mama, breathed with deep breaths; some great emotion was choking her up. "But there is… there is a way. With more and more Onbus dying, we were able to positively identify the cause. It was… is enough to convince the boffins of the severity of the situation."
She paused, her shoulders wracking with silent shudders. When she lifted her head there was anguish in her eyes. Nona had never before seen a human that expressive. "I'm sorry, my dear. I will have to leave you. The storms are intensifying. I'm the only one left with any interest in you. The boffins won't allow it. They… they say it will hurt you."
Nona instinctually understood her intent. "What is your plan?"
Her mama gestured to the console before her. "This… this is the key. At least, I think it will be. Since we've identified the cause, the people have turned against their Onbus. So much has already been destroyed. But this is… this is a formula… f-for reviving the few seeds that have survived."
"Seeds?" This was nothing new to Nona; she had absorbed enough literature to understand the gist. "I thought—"
"No time. I'm sorry, but I must go. This facility will be sealed, for your own protection. Th-There's enough power to… to keep it running." She wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm truly sorry. I wish I could take you with me."
"It is… it's okay, mama."
The scientist smiled ruefully at that. "I don't deserve to be called that after what we've done."
"You will always be mama to me." Nona fixed her with a beady-eyed stare. "You have kept me safe and… and whole."
"Th-Thank you." She bowed, almost hitting her head on the console, and turned, braid whipping about. "I will begin the power-down sequence," she said, moving to the heavy doors. "After I have left the facility, you will be given complete access."
"I understand, mama."
She watched as she darted about the room, silently, almost reverently flipping switches and toggling secret buttons. Several times she caught the sounds of sniffles, and dearly wished she could comfort the only human who had shown her affection. At last there was no longer delaying the inevitable, and the scientist turned to face her, one last time.
"The boffins never wanted me to tell you this," she began, voice thickly choked with emotion. "But I will anyway. That… that formula will imbue any seeds you've injected it into with, hopefully, the ability to cleanse the world. You know where it began?" When Nona nodded she continued. "Promise me, dear, promise me you will find someone to do what I cannot."
"I promise, mama."
With a final muffled sob, the scientist nodded and turned to leave. The door's heavy steel locks slid shut and clanged with finality, sealing them apart. The facility slowly quieted for the first time in decades until all that remained was the ventilation, the beeping machines, and the mega-storm of poison that, in those days, were enough to reach anywhere.
The sound of coughing again interrupted her reverie. Nona returned to the present; it seemed Waltraud was having difficulty breathing, and her poor husband was trying to persuade her to go to bed. The old grandmother was having none of his effort.
"I am not going until you have apologized!"
"Apologize?!" Theodor was incredulous. "What in the world should I be apologizing for?"
From her end, Nona could only hear their voices. She could imagine what they looked like, however. An old man and old woman, married for many decades, always bickering but making up in the end no matter their disagreements. That was love. But it seemed to her that this couple was wracked by pain of a different sort; she could hear it in every syllable of Theodor's, despite Waltraud's guarded speech. Something had grievously injured them both, and Theodor's constant hostility was… a reaction to that pain.
So was Waltraud's stubbornness.
"—and to Nona because you keep doubting every single thing she says. Is it because she reminds you too much of…"
"Enough!" thundered Theodor, but there it was, the hurt in his voice. His wife had struck too close to home. "Okay. Okay… I… sorry. I trust you. I trust you, Nona, that you have everyone's best interests at heart."
There was more of this in that vein. It pained Nona to hear him break down and admit he was wrong. But that was human nature.
"Thank you," she said at last.
And as she continued to fill in both Waltraud and Theodor of what she wished for them to do, her mind returned again to the motherly scientist who risked everything to tell her the secrets of saving the world.
Thank you, she thought privately. Thank you, Nona, for trusting me.
Humanity may have had their many, varied faults, but it wasn't for nothing that she had chosen her mother's name as a reminder of her mission.
She only wished she had Nona's courage to do the right thing, just as Theodor did.
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