Page 87 of The Artist
Victor shrugged. “Call it what you want.” He looked in our direction. “And to answer your comment, Mason, I’m not a prick. The underground dwellings aren’t prison cells. Some are bigger than the ones above ground and they all have light channels providing them daylight. If you want to see what they look like, maybe Belle can show you her home.”
“Yes, I’d be happy to show you. Then you’ll see how you can’t open a window and feel the breeze or see if it’s raining or snowing.”
Victor’s scowl at me was icy. Over and over our government had instructed us delegation members in the importance of representing our nation in a positive light. I was defying their orders by being honest about the inequalities and injustices that we struggled with.
Feeling his judgmental stare, I scratched my wrist and added, “Although sometimes we hear rain through the pipes.”
“How long will it take before all of you can enjoy living above ground?” Jonah asked.
Pushing the orange sleeves of his sweater up, Victor answered, “It depends on how fast we can clean the land and how willing our government is to receive aid from the Motherlands. As you know, everything comes at a price. Originally, we agreed to teach all children English from the age of five in return for building materials. It’s a constant negotiation between our government and the Council in the Motherlands.” Victor spoke directly to Jonah. “If you and the other council members could have it your way, we would become part of the Motherlands and give up our language and culture. France might be a poor nation for now, but we are rich in pride and hope. We would rather have half of our people living underground than give up on our cultural identity.”
“See,thatI can get behind.” Thor bobbed his index finger in Victor’s direction. “Don’t give up your sovereignty.”
“We won’t. It will take time, but one day, enough land will be cleaned above ground that we can all have gardens. Until then our underground systems work well.”
“I hope we can depend on you to help us convince your government to let Belle go. The Northlands are rich in natural resources and could become a strong ally to the French,” Thor said.
Victor shrugged. “As far as I know, negotiations were tried several times between Khan and my government, but each time it came to nothing because of his obstinate nature.”
“Is that what they told you?” Thor laughed. “My father was never the problem. The real problem is that every prime minister you’ve sent to negotiate has been a stuck-up, arrogant, pig-headed, incompetent amateur.”
Victor leaned back in his seat and watched Thor with disdain before turning his head to Freya. “Tell me again why he’s the future ruler when you’re older, wiser, and twice as suited for the role.”
“Don’t answer that, Freya,” Thor hissed. “Victor is just trying to provoke us. Don’t take the bait.”
There was something amusing in Thor’s giving Freya that order when his face was red with anger.
Victor dug a little deeper by leaning closer to Freya and whispering loudly, “On the other hand, let him tell the Prime Minister what an arrogant, pig-headed, incompetent amateur he is and watch your brother lose every chance of negotiating Belle’s return to the Northlands. Maybe when you all return empty-handed, your father will realize that gender has nothing to do with leadership potential.”
“Shut the fuck up, Victor,” Mason warned. “We won’t return empty-handed. Either your government will find the good sense to let her go or they’ll clean up the mess we leave behind when we return.”
The threat was potent and hung in the air like a smelly stink bomb making everyone turn their heads away.
“How much longer?” I asked Mason.
“About seventy minutes.”
“I have a question.” Indiana, who had been reclined in his chair, raised it. “You said that your people lived underground for generations, but then what happened if they needed to fix something outside? I mean you talked about glass domes providing light. Surely, they must have needed replacement or repair along the way. How did they do that?”
“Obviously, the builders wore protective suits and in the early days they were limited to working during cool temperatures or they would overheat. Of course, that was before we invented a suit with temperature control.”
“Let me guess,youinvented that?” Aubri’s tone was sassy.
“If anything, it was a reinvention. As you know, a lot of valuable knowledge was lost after the war. But no, Aubri, I didn’t have anything to do with the temperature-controlled hazmat suits. They sorted that out more than three hundred and fifty years ago. Still, the work was dangerous what with the pollution and the fact that working with tools involved the risk of cutting or ripping through the suit. The high levels of radiation would have killed a worker if they inhaled too much of it.”
“How?” Indiana frowned. “I’m not trying to be smart, but how does radiation kill a person? Is it an instant death or will they mutate into something unnatural?”
Victor drew in a deep sigh as if he found the question rudimentary. “Yeah, Indiana, animals and humans exposed to high levels of radiation will become mutants – you know, glowing red hair, unnaturally long legs and arms, and a massive torso. Brains are typically reduced in size, which reminds me, Mason, was your mom exposed to radiation when she expected you?”
Mason just rolled his eyes, but Aubri, who was on Victor’s right side, clawed her fingers into the meat on Victor’s thigh while hissing. “I wouldn’t tease someone about their red hair color if I were you.”
He screamed and tried to push her hand away but Aubri bored her nails and fingers deeper. “Are you done being a wiseass?”
“Yes. Yes. Just let go.” Victor followed his pleading with a long row of French curse words.
When Aubri let go of his thigh, he scowled at her.
Aubri glared back. “If you call my brother or any of us a mutant again, I’ll make your people wonder if it was the radiation that made you lose your testicles. Do you understand?”
