{"id":93,"date":"2019-12-15T15:17:22","date_gmt":"2019-12-15T15:17:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lonnmore.net\/sleet\/?page_id=93"},"modified":"2019-12-15T18:54:47","modified_gmt":"2019-12-15T18:54:47","slug":"brown-n-v11n2","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/home\/issue\/brown-n-v11n2\/","title":{"rendered":"Nikki Brown"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<h5>\n<strong>Glass Paradise<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p>Katya\nis eight years old. Faire, her mother, and Dene, her father, are\nconcerned. She won&#8217;t speak, though the doctors promise she is\ncapable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nholds Katya&#8217;s hand as Dene opens the door to the Science Building.\nIt&#8217;s the place where the Corporation conducts tests on people who\ndemonstrate abnormalities. Faire has been afraid to come here. Dene\nsays her fears are unfounded. He would know, as he works for the\nCorporation as a programmer. But Faire has heard stories of children\nbeing taken away or transformed by chips inserted into their brains\nthat change their personalities. Katya looks up at her mother, eyes\nwide as if this is one big adventure. Faire smiles so her daughter\nwon&#8217;t be afraid, and they follow Dene onto the white-tiled floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\n#<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In\ntheir apartment, Faire washes dishes of their leftover food. There\nare only two plates. Katya must stay in the Science Building\novernight for tests. Dene touches Faire&#8217;s arm. &#8220;We have to do\nwhat we can to help her.&#8221; Faire shrugs Dene off to place the\ndishes on the drying rack. She takes a chocolate bar out of the\nfridge, breaks it in half and offers the larger piece to Dene.\n&#8220;She&#8217;ll be back tomorrow.&#8221; Dene bites the chocolate. Faire\ncan hear him chewing; it annoys her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\n#<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nthrows open the doors to the Science Building. The white-tiled floors\nrefract the light coming in through the windows into her eyes,\ninducing momentary blindness. &#8220;I&#8217;m here for my daughter. She was\nadmitted for tests yesterday,&#8221; states Faire to the woman at the\nfront desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Please\nfill out this form with your request,&#8221; the woman says while\nhanding Faire a tablet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t\nthere anyone I can speak to?&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m\nsorry, but you need to fill out the form first.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nfills out the form and submits it. A message appears on the screen:\n&#8220;Thank you for your request. We will notify you when tests are\ncomplete.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Excuse\nme,&#8221; Faire approaches the woman at the front desk. &#8220;I want\nto know when my daughter can come home. Can&#8217;t you give me any\ninformation about that?&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nwoman punches a button on her keyboard. &#8220;I&#8217;ve added your\nquestion to your submission form.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire&#8217;s\ncheeks burn with anger. How dare this woman keep her from Katya. She\nchecks herself from saying anything that will result in a flag to her\nrecord. This woman is just doing her job.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\n#<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Dene\nmakes spaghetti for dinner. &#8220;You should eat,&#8221; he says,\npointing to Faire&#8217;s untouched plate. Faire twists a pair of noodles\naround her fork and touches the pasta to her lips. The round,\nworm-like foodstuff is repulsive. She can&#8217;t bear the thought of\nconsuming it, despite her desire to make Dene happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She\nlowers her fork. Dene looks sad. Faire feels bad about this. He takes\nher plate and scrapes her meal into a plastic container. &#8220;Maybe\nyou&#8217;ll be hungry later.&#8221;  \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\n#<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nwaits on the faux leather bench in the Science Building. Today, the\nyoung man at the front desk hadn&#8217;t known how to respond to her\nquestions. This is only his second day on the job, he said. Faire\ntries to concentrate on her screen where an ad for a fizzy drink\nplays. A man takes a swig from the bottle and grins ghoulishly. His\nteeth reflect the chartreuse sheen of the lime-flavored drink. Faire\nis careful to suppress the disgust bubbling up inside. Any show of\neffusive emotion could be picked up by the tablet sensors, disqualify\nher results, and lead to a forfeit of pay. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nwoman who Faire spoke to previously emerges into the atrium from a\nhidden door behind the front desk. She lays into the new hire, &#8220;You\ndon&#8217;t tell people anything. That&#8217;s the job of the software. You send\nthem home, and if there&#8217;s anything they need to know, they will be\nnotified.&#8221; The new hire glances warily in Faire&#8217;s direction. The\nwoman follows his gaze to see Faire, partially obscured by a shadow\ncast by the marble wall buttresses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nstrides to the front desk. These people must answer to her now. They\nknow where her daughter is. She&#8217;s certain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Splaying\nher fingers on the shiny desk surface, Faire towers over the two\nemployees. &#8220;Bring my child to me. It&#8217;s my right as her mother to\nsee her.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nwoman squares her shoulders with Faire&#8217;s. &#8220;You need to leave\nnow.&#8221; \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s\nin charge here?&#8221; Faire demands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I\nam.&#8221; The woman&#8217;s eyes smolder. Faire wonders how a person could\nbe so absent of empathy, but then realizes that this woman is not\nunlike herself; her dedication is to the Corporation, not to Faire&#8217;s\ndaughter. The woman presses a button on her keyboard. &#8220;Your\naccount has been flagged. As stated, you will be notified as soon as\ninformation is available.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nnew hire cowers in the shadow of his manager. Perhaps he will lose\nhis job over this. Protocol is the Corporation&#8217;s religion, and he\nfailed to abide by it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nremoves her hands from the shiny surface of the desk and takes her\nleave. Though she failed to see her daughter, Faire learned\nsomething. The people working for the Corporation are not as perfect\nas the algorithms they serve. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Outside\nthe Science Building, Faire takes a deep breath. The walk from\nCorporate headquarters to her and Dene&#8217;s apartment is only a few\nblocks, but Faire notices things she never did before. She always\nassumed the street was straight, but today she sees a slight curve, a\nwhole block of apartments that she never paid attention to, and the\nsign for the supermarket is missing the letter &#8220;r.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When\nFaire arrives at the apartment, Dene is waiting for her. &#8220;They\nsent me home,&#8221; he explains. Faire hangs her purse on the hook by\nthe door and shrugs off her jacket. &#8220;And flagged my account.&#8221;\nMoving to the kitchen, Faire takes out a pan to make Dene&#8217;s favorite\nstir fry. The cupboards in the kitchen are bare. &#8220;The food drone\nnever arrived,&#8221; he adds. Faire finds a can of potato soup in the\nback. &#8220;Faire, we have to get back to normal. We can&#8217;t let this\nderail us.&#8221; Faire dumps the soup into a stove pot and turns on\nthe burner. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;What\nabout Katya?&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;The\nCorporation will let us know when she is ready to come home.&#8221;\nFaire finds a loaf of bread in the back of the freezer. Dinner will\nbe soup and toast. She feels Dene&#8217;s arms around her waist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I\nmiss her.&#8221; Dene&#8217;s arms are warm. He holds Faire close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\n#<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nwind plays with Faire&#8217;s hair. She sits on a bench outside the Science\nBuilding pretending to watch ads. From her position on the edge of\nthe grass park, she is far enough from the entrance so as not to draw\nattention, but close enough to maintain a clear view through the\nglass walls to the front desk. The woman who spoke so harshly to\nFaire the day before, recognizable by her authoritative carriage, is\ninside training a new hire. The young man who didn&#8217;t follow protocol\nmust have been fired after all. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Tinkling\nbells play from Faire&#8217;s tablet. Faire pushes the power-down button\nand looks up at the glass facade of the Science Building. The\nposition of the sun has shifted, making it harder to see inside, but\nFaire can just make out a single body moving about the front desk.\nThe woman has left the new hire alone. Tucking her device under her\narm and composing her features into a pleasant smile, Faire sets her\nsights on the front doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nnew hire is petite girl, dark hair pulled into a tight bun at the\nnape of her neck. Faire notes with some satisfaction that she could\nphysically overpower her if needed. &#8220;How can I help you?&#8221;\nthe girl asks, her scintillating voice echoing off the marble\nsurfaces. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I\nhave an appointment to visit my daughter.&#8221; The girl can&#8217;t find\nthe appointment in the system. Of course, there is none, but she is\nnew and doesn&#8217;t trust herself yet. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll\nbe right back,&#8221; she says. The hidden door behind the front desk\nswings open, and the girl hurries inside. Before the door can close,\nFaire rushes behind the desk and stops the door&#8217;s motion with her\nfoot. Faire&#8217;s breath catches in her throat. No ringing alarm bells or\nflashing warning lights. Faire slips inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nhall is dark and long, lined with doors. Faire watches the girl up\nahead disappear behind one of them, making a mental note to avoid\nthat entrance &#8211; it must be the administrative office. Little cameras\nabove the doors blink with tiny red lights. There isn&#8217;t much time.\nFaire scans signs above entryways as she walks: Infectious Disease,\nMental Illness, Life Extension, Physical Disability. <em>If\nKatya can&#8217;t speak, that counts as a physical disability, right?<\/em>\nSomehow the characterization doesn&#8217;t fit. Faire continues down the\nhall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A\nman in a long, gray coat emerges from a door labeled &#8220;Well\nBeing.&#8221; Faire hurries to come up with an explanation for her\npresence. &#8220;Sorry to bother you,&#8221; Faire stutters. &#8220;But\nI&#8217;m new and can&#8217;t find my way back to my patient.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nman flashes his straight, white teeth. &#8220;What area?&#8221; he\nasks, his voice reverberating like the strings that make the low\nnotes on a cello. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;The\ncause has been hard to pinpoint,&#8221; Faire says, hoping a broad\nresponse will conceal her ignorance. &#8220;But she won&#8217;t speak.&#8221;\nThe man nods considerately. &#8220;She&#8217;s just a child,&#8221; Faire\ncan&#8217;t help but add in her daughter&#8217;s defense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nman&#8217;s eyes glitter, &#8220;In that case, she&#8217;s likely to be in the\nInundation Lab. Last one on the end.&#8221; He points down the hall to\nthe final door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Thank\nyou. I must have gotten turned around. All the doors look the same.&#8221;\nFaire hurries away before the man can question her explanation. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\ndoor at the end of the hall is metal and very tall. Faire holds her\nbreath as she pulls the handle. To her delight it opens, and she\nsteps inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At\nfirst, she is blinded by sunlight. Her nostrils are inundated with\nsmells. Good smells. Honey, lavender, and fresh cut grass. Does she\nhear birds chirping?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As\nFaire&#8217;s eyes adjust, she finds herself surrounded by flowering plants\nand lush, green trees, the sun shining overhead. A pair of yellow\nparakeets flit across Faire&#8217;s path and dart into a thicket. The sound\nof trickling water sooths Faire&#8217;s mind. On the other side of the\nthicket is a small stream, running over smooth stones. The sunlight\ndances across the water&#8217;s surface, bending slightly on its path from\nsky to earth, and Faire realizes that this paradise is not open-air,\nbut surrounded by glass. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t\nthey beautiful?&#8221; The voice is crystalline &#8211; like wind chimes.\nFaire turns slowly to see Katya, her beautiful daughter, the two\nyellow parakeets in the palm of her hand, filled with grains of\nsugar. Eyes filling with tears, Faire rushes to her daughter. The\nbirds flutter into the trees, and Katya brushes the sugar from her\nhands. It settles like stardust on the grass beneath her feet. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nswoops her daughter into her arms. Her hair smells like honey suckle\nand her blue dress is soft. &#8220;I love you,&#8221; Faire whispers. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I\nlove you, Mamma,&#8221; Katya says in her chime-like voice. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nsets Katya down and kneels so their eyes are on the same level. &#8220;They\ndidn&#8217;t change you,&#8221; Faire says. She pulls a tumbling curl back\nfrom her daughter&#8217;s round face. Katya smiles, reassuring her mother\nof her happiness. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s\nher world that&#8217;s changed.&#8221; The low voice is out of place in this\npellucid realm of birds, flowers, and running water. The man in the\ngray coat chooses his path around the flowerbeds carefully and comes\nto stand next to Katya, placing his hand on her shoulder. &#8220;All\nof us are impacted by the world around us, but Katya is especially\nsusceptible. The sounds, sights, and motions of the world outside are\ntoo overwhelming for her delicate mind.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nfeels like a fool. She thought she was ahead when she was actually\nmany miles behind. &#8220;Who are you?&#8221; She gets to her feet\nreluctantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The\nman takes a silk pouch from his coat pocket. Katya holds out her hand\nexpectantly. He opens the pouch and pours the contents, sparkling\ngrains of sugar, into her palm. The little yellow birds swoop down\nand land delightedly in Katya&#8217;s palm. The smile that sweeps her face\nis precious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;I\nam the director of the Inundation Lab,&#8221; the man says. &#8220;Katya&#8217;s\nnot the only child who cannot handle the overwhelming nature of our\nworld. Long ago, our ancestors lived in a place like this.&#8221; The\ndirector gestures broadly at the surrounding canopy of trees and\ntrickling stream. &#8220;We&#8217;ve recreated that environment here, but\nwithout the stresses of human needs faced by our predecessors.&#8221;\nKatya&#8217;s eyes are alight with wonder as she watches the parakeets\nconsume the sweet, saccharine crystals with their narrow beaks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Faire\nstruggles to push down what feel like a wood block lodged in her\nthroat. &#8220;When can she come home?&#8221; she asks in a strained\nwhisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;You\ncan take her home with you today, if you like,&#8221; answers the\ndirector. Faire feels her heart rocket excitedly into her throat.\n&#8220;But she will go back to the way she was before. It is only here\nwhere she will be sheltered from the stimulants that caused her to\nretreat into her shell. I fear the shock of the world outside may\ncause her to withdrawal permanently. Faire swallows the bile rising\nfrom her trachea. &#8220;You are her mother, so of course it is your\nchoice.&#8221; Faire hears the director&#8217;s voice, but the sound is like\nthat of the birds and the stream &#8211; just part of the environment. She\nwatches Katya raise her hands to the glass heavens and the parakeets\ntake flight. The sugar brushed from her hands hangs in the air in a\nglittering haze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"bio\">Nikki Brown is a narrative writer and filmmaker who grew up in Grand Rapids, MI and who now resides in Los Angeles, CA. In addition to her fiction work, Nikki is a journalist who explores the impacts of emerging technologies on culture and society. Nikki also co-wrote and produced the indie feature film, Up on the Glass, and earned her MFA in Writing for Screen and Television from the University of Southern California and BA in Biology from Dartmouth College.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Glass Paradise Katya is eight years old. Faire, her mother, and Dene, her father, are concerned. She won&#8217;t speak, though the doctors promise she is capable. Faire holds Katya&#8217;s hand as Dene opens the door to the Science Building. It&#8217;s the place where the Corporation conducts tests on people who demonstrate abnormalities. Faire has been &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/home\/issue\/brown-n-v11n2\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Nikki Brown&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":135,"menu_order":15,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/93"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=93"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/93\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":94,"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/93\/revisions\/94"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/135"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sleetmagazine.com\/archives\/v11_2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=93"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}